Professor Winchesters
by theshukri
Summary: When Hogwarts received two new professors from the fated land of America, everybody was curious. But no one was more curious then one Harry Potter. A series of stories about Dean and Sam Winchester as professors at Hogwarts.
1. What Makes Us Evil

**PROFESSORS WINCHESTER**

**Summary: **When Hogwarts received two new professors from the fated land of America, everybody was curious. But no one was more curious then one Harry Potter. A series of stories about Dean and Sam Winchester as professors at Hogwarts.

**A/N: **The Supernatural/Harry Potter crossover fics generally tend to be slash, or romance, or something similar of the sort. I would have expected tons of Wee!chesters being enrolled into Hogwarts, or even Angels somehow being in there, but so far, I've only come across one. So this is my own contribution to this xover. Because it needs more _supernatural magic_. XD

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><p><strong>- ONE - <strong>

**What Makes Us Evil**

Harry really liked the new professors. They were cool, knew what they were doing, and were _real_, but most of all, Harry liked them because they treated him not like a celebrity, nor like some random other kid - they treated him like a normal boy who had too much on his plate and a evil wizard after his life. Not many people could do that, so Harry was very very happy.

"_And they have really interesting accents, too." _Harry relayed to the little garden snake he was speaking to in the Quidditch Pitch. _"Nothing like how we speak, they think _we _speak strange."_

The little snake curled into itself slightly, lifting its head up as it stared at Harry. _"Zeyy do nott trrrouble yoouuu?"_

It really said something about your life when the only person who'd ask such a nice question was a garden snake.

"_No," _Harry replied. _"They're completely unbiased. They make sure I pay attention, do my homework, everything, but they make sure everybody else does the same as well."_

"_And youurr frieeendzzz?"_

"_Who? Ron and Hermione? Ron keeps asking them things about America and muggle inventions for his dad. Hermione keeps asking them how they know so much about everything if they're just muggles, and she wants to know _everything _about them. You should have seen Draco-"_

"_-Errr, Harry...-"_

"_-The first time Professor Winchester, the older one, took of points from Slytherin because Draco and his gang were talking, Draco said-"_

"_-Eeeerrr, Harryyyyy...-"_

"_-'My father will hear of this!' and Dean, that's the older Winchester's name, just looked at him like he was something really weird and looked at the other Professor Winchester, Sam, and said 'Hear that, Sammy? His _father _will hear of this – god, I can't get enough of these accents, man.'-"_

"_-Harry!"_

Harry paused, blinking down at the little snake called Balza, wondering why the snake was moving his head in jerky movements to the left. It took a while, but he soon got the clue that he should look over his shoulder, and with the strange question of whether or not he was imagining that nervously afraid expression on Balza's face (it was hard to guess when said expression was on a snake's face), Harry took a slow peak over his shoulder.

And blinked.

Standing there, high up, looming on top of him, were two very distinctive figures with broad shoulders. If Harry tilted his head up a bit, he could see the shadow of their faces, made dark by the sun glaring right behind them, and the Boy Who Lived felt a shiver go down his shoulder in intimidation. The older of the professors had his arms crossed across his chest, legs apart, shoulders squared, while the younger of the pair had his hands stuffed in the pocket of his jeans underneath the black uniform robes of Hogwarts. Both were looking down at him from their far too long heights, and Harry didn't have to look back at Balza to know the snake had made its fastest escape ever.

They'd heard him speaking Parseltongue. The professor _Winchesters _had just heard him speaking _Parseltongue_.

Well, if they didn't find him a freak and start treating him differently now, Harry would eat a golden snitch.

Panicking slightly, Harry turned around and raised up his hands, waving them about as if trying to dispel any possible suspicion in the air. He smiled nervously, trying to pretend nothing had happened, and craned his neck upwards from his seated position on the grass to see his professor's face.

"Eer, hello professors! Fancy meeting you here – is there anything I can help you with?"

The shorter of the teachers snorted, shifting in a manner far more intimidating then should have been possible from an apparent muggle. But it was the taller that answered, after shooting a look to his brother.

"Actually, yeah. We were just wondering, were you actually just _talking _to that snake right now?"

_Great_! They really _did _see him speaking Parseltongue!

"Err, talk?" Harry squeaked, nervously looking anywhere but at his actual teachers.

"Yeah, _talk_." The older Winchester said. "You know, _having a conversation_, getting nice and close, _hissing _with each other? Because it freakin' well seemed like that snake was actually _replying _to you, which is a whole lot of weird to add on to all of this."

"Oh be quiet, Dean."

"No, Sammy! Non-violent ghosts? _Flying broomsticks? _Moving pictures? Why are we even here thinking _this _is weird? Just another notch on _Hogwarts: School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_!"

"_Dean_."

The elder Winchester huffed, unfolding his arms and hiding them in the pockets of his leather jacket. Harry blinked as the other Winchester turned to look at him, and now that they were both standing differently, Harry could see the open, non judgemental expression carved all over the younger Winchester's face, eyes wide and large and eyebrows furrowed upwards.

"Don't listen to him, Harry, he's just having a bad day. But were you really talking to the snake? That's really incredible, is there an actual spell or potion you take for that?"

Surprised, and wondering whether they were pulling his leg, Harry shook his head slowly. "Er, no, actually. It's an ability only some witches and wizards have – it's called Parseltongue." He admitted, knowing they'd be able to get the information anyway if he lied. "It just allows you to speak with snakes and understand their language."

The younger of the professors nodded his head in understanding. "So it only works with snakes, huh? You can't speak with any other animal?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, only snakes. It's similar to Metamorphagus people, or Seers. People who speak Parseltongue are called Parselmouths – and usually, it's considered a mark of a Dark Wizard, sir."

That had the older Winchester perking up, a dark look passing across his face. "Dark Wizards? You mean the bad guys? Why? Do most of your bad guys tend to speak it or something?"

Wincing slightly, Harry nodded very slowly, the notion of burying his own grave doubling greatly. "Er, yes sir." He answered meekly. "Salazar Slytherin, the founder of Slytherin, could speak it, and it's said some of his descendants have inherited it. Lord Voldermort can also speak it, along with others."

"Since it's genetics, does that mean you're a descendant of the founder of Slytherin?" The older Winchester asked, gaining a look from his brother.

Harry didn't blame the younger brother, sometimes, it was hard to remember the playful, simple worded, older Winchester was quicker then most people. Still,Harry balked at the question and the whole notion of being related to _anybody _that had to do with Slytherin. Furiously, he shook his head, refusing to even entertain the idea that maybe he _was_.

"No sir, Salazar Slytherin probably wasn't the only Parselmouth in his time that might have gone on to have family, sir."

"Huh," Professor Winchester said, looking over at his brother. "Well too bad Sammy here can't get his geek on and have a wonderful adventure. And it would have been so _useful_ to have a snake-charmer in the family."

The second professor frowned, giving his brother what Ron called The Look, and what older Professor Winchester called The Bitch Face (never in front of Professor McGonagall though), and Harry just stared up at them not understanding their apparent ease with everything he'd just told them. Apparently, his face must have been screaming his thoughts, for elder Winchester looked at him and snorted again, as if finding this incredibly amusing.

"What? You thought we judge people just because of their genetics? It isn't what you can do that makes you evil, kid, it's what you do with them."

Harry nodded dumbly, not at all missing the sad but thankful look the younger Winchester gave his brother, then quickly stood up, dust himself off and left in a hurry once they told him to hurry up and get back to class.

_Yup_, Harry thought, _definitely like the professor Winchesters._

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><p><strong>Leave a review and get another soon. 8D<strong>


	2. Professor Winchester: the first

**PROFESSORS WINCHESTER**

**Summary: **When Hogwarts received two new professors from the fated land of America, everybody was curious. But no one was more curious then one Harry Potter. A series of stories about Dean and Sam Winchester as professors at Hogwarts.

**A/N: **I've been trying to upload this for the past _five hours_. What the hell just happened with the Doc Manager? Oh who cares, as long as it works now. A _major _thanks to all the following reviews, it's absolutely love to hear from you all: _tlcroft, deathnoteno1fan-codegeaselover _(wow, long name, lol), _Anon, WanderlustEthereal, Eris1031, thecrimsonsleepingdragon, antra, perline, BlackWolf2013. _You have no idea what it means to me, seriously. /loves all over you.

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><p><strong>- TWO -<strong>

**Professor Winchester**

_(The First.)_

"Welcome to your first ever _actually useful _Muggle Studies. I'm... _Professor_..." Mumble mumble. "Dean Winchester. You can all call me either Professor or Sir. Nothing else. Seriously guys, nothing else."

The class stared at him, unblinking, taking in the lack of any sort of robe every wizard or witch wore (it was practically _mandatory_), taking in the brown leather jacket and worn out jeans. Some of the girls (well actually, almost _all _of the girls) had a light sheen of red over their cheeks, but mostly everyone had an incredulous look about them as they stared at the newcomer.

It was Hermione Granger that raised her hand.

"Yes, you, what is it?" The new professor asked.

"Sir," Hermione began primly, placing her hands on top of her already open copy book. "I just wanted to welcome you to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I'm Hermione Granger – if there's anything you need help with here at Hogwarts, please, feel free to ask."

Professor Winchester looked at her appraisingly for a moment, then nodded his head in thanks. "Thank you, Hermione, I'll keep that in mind." With the tone of finality set firm, he gave one wide sweep of the students, then punched one of his palms as if he'd just gotten an idea.

"Right!" He began, taking a few steps to the side. Everybody's eyes followed. "Anybody from a... Muggle – that's the word for non-magical people, right? - family or with any knowledge of Muggle things, keep quiet. You are not to answer the next questions until I specifically say so."

The class nervously exchanged glances, Gryffindors and Slytherins united for once in their lack of understanding for what was to come. The professor merely took their silence as an agreement, and with a large, childish, grin, took off the blue sheet that had just been covering the black board.

With the cover gone, the class saw a picture of a glinting black vehicle, something made of metal, stuck in the middle of the large black board.

Everybody with any Muggle knowledge immediately knew it to be a car.

Everybody else had no clue.

Harry and Hermione shared a look, and as one turned to look at Ron, who looked confused for a moment only to then have realisation dawn and grin in accomplishment. Hermione huffed, not impressed, and Harry smiled, turning to look around at the other Gryffindor students he knew would know about the vehicle on the board.

Neville was sitting next to Dean, looking confused and blank, while Dean himself was looking like he was about to jump up screaming in joy and burst into tears. Harry grinned at their reactions, elbowing Ron who was sitting next to him and using his head to signal the two other Gryffindor kids. Ron grinned himself, and Harry waited for the red-head to get Hermione's attention, but when neither of them turned to face him or turned to look at Dean and Neville, Harry frowned, leaning forward in his chair, craning his neck, to see what had caught their attention.

Almost every Slytherin was scowling fiercely at the professor.

"And what," Malfoy's obnoxious voice rang out. "Is _that _supposed to be?"

The professor, for his credit, didn't lose an ounce of his cheerful disposition, and instead clapped once in glee as he looked at the picture besides him with worship.

"That's exactly what I want you to tell _me_, kids. Ah! But only those of you that don't come from no-magic backgrounds. Otherwise it's no fun."

Silence. Hermione and Dean fidgeted in their seats, biting on their lips to not blurt out the answers. Harry was used to Hermione's intelligence, but seeing Dean like this was something new, even _Ron _was dancing a bit in his seat with the most happiest expression on his face.

"Mate, I _know _this. I actually _know what that is_." He whispered to Harry, beaming so hard it looked painful.

The Slytherins, on the other hand, were looking at each other and converging to come up with an answer. A small number of them looked like they were laughing, sharing knowing glances with a few Gryffindors that looked their way – and Harry abruptly realised a few many _Gryffindors _were actually sharing furious whispers with their Slytherin seat mates and jabbing in the direction of the blackboard with confused hand waves.

He'd almost forgotten only a few students at Hogwarts actually knew the world outside of Wizards and Witches.

"Tick tock, guys. While I love watching you all panic like little girls, we have a time limit – and I'd rather have taught you guys _one _thing by the end of this lesson then nothing."

Even more furious whisperings answered the professor's warning, and Harry wasn't surprised to see Hermione raise her hand, finger pointed heavenwards, twitching in her seat. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Dean scowling at Hermione, and got a shrug from a still confused Neville when Dean's hand shot upwards like a rocket.

Professor Winchester smirked, held up both his hands, and one by one lowered a finger. His fingers went from ten, to nine, to eight, seven, six, five, four, three... Two... One...

"Alright! Time's up!"

Both Hermione and Dean surged even higher in their seats, practically hovering in their excitement to be picked.

"Right, let's see whether anybody else can tell us the answer... Hmm... Who to choose?" The professor made a show of tapping his chin with a finger, _tap tap tap_, and looking around the classroom at the kids that _didn't _look like they'd just suffered through a small panic attack.

"You. Red head. You know what it is?"

Harry blinked, staring at the finger that was pointed at him, and scrunched his eyebrows together in confusion. He wasn't a red head, it was glaringly obvious he had black hair – not even brown to get confused with – so why was the professor pointing at him?

A meek voice next to him stuttered out a "me?", and Harry turned his head to see Ron pointing at himself with wide eyes. The professor nodded, looking momentarily gleeful at the insulted look Hermione was sporting, then tapped the blackboard and the poster of the black car again.

"Yup, you. What's your name, kid?"

"Uuh, uuh," Ron stuttered. "R-Ron Weasley, sir."

The professor looked curious for a moment. "You wouldn't be related to the other Weasley kids would ya? The twins, Fred and George or something?"

Ron nodded slowly, wondering whether he should instead be playing dumb because the twins had pissed off another teacher already. Despite having only been at school for five days.

Thankfully though, the professor just grinned widely, laughing as Ron nodded. "So you all have red hair, huh? Makes it easy to find you in a crowd, I guess." Harry snickered, getting an elbow to the side for his amusement. "So, can you tell me what this is, Ron?"

Ron nodded again, scratching at his cheek and folding into himself at the horrid look Hermione was giving him.

"Um, that's a car, sir."

Professor Winchester beamed, nodding his head wildly. "Yes!" He said, waving his arms outwards. "This, ladies and gentlemen, is a car!"

Malfoy sneered, disdain practically vibrating from his body. But before he could open his mouth to make a most likely biting retort, the professor slammed his hands onto his desk, making a few kids jolt in their seat.

"Now can anybody tell me _what _car it is, exactly?"

Blank expressions, even Hermione fully sat down and straightened her clothing. But alas, out of the blue, it suddenly dawned on Harry and everyone that _one _person _still _had their hand stuck up in the air, that _one _person was still _radiating _with the _need _to answer, and the professor smirked, smug and interested and _oh so proud_, and gestured for Dean to answer.

"PROFESSOR, IT'S A 1967 CHEVROLET IMPALA!"

Everyone turned to stare at Dean, who took in a deep breath and let it out, a blissful expression taking refuge on his face. A moment later, everyone simultaneously turned to look at the professor, who looked blissed out himself, and the silence stretched on for a few pregnant minutes where both Dean and Professor Winchester looked completely out of it.

Finally, the professor got his bearings together, and with pride tinted heavily in his voice, looked over at everyone while nodding his head.

"Perfect. What's your name, kid?"

Dean was about to answer when a sudden noise surprised everyone from his left. Looking down, the sandy hair of one Seamus Finnigan came popping up, mumbling sleepily as he rubbed at his face. Everyone watched as Seamus looked around blearily, stopping only when he saw the professor.

"Hey!" The Gryffindor said. "Ain't your name Dean?"

Everyone turned to the professor as one, watching as the adult nodded his head with a confused amused look. "Yeah, and?"

Seamus grinned, turning to look at Dean Thomas. "Ey man, he's got the same name as you. Fancy that."

Harry stared at Seamus, unaware that everybody else was also staring at the boy, then slowly turned to stare at the teacher. One by one, murmurs and whispers began picking up around the Gryffindors and Slytherins, and Harry was surprised to see he wasn't the only one shocked to finally see the (rather unimportant, actually) connection.

"Blimey, I didn't even _think _of that." Ron hissed, looking between the professor and Dean.

Dean sat down again, hands propped up on the desk cushioning his face, with a dreamy look as he stared at the poster of the _Impala_. The professor was shaking his head, eyes twinkling the way Dumbledore's did, and was about to speak up when the classroom door suddenly opened up.

A _really tall _figure walked in, this one wearing a robe, wavy brown hair moving in a hypnotising way along with each step the man took, and everyone watched as the new person walked in towards the professor and put his hands on his hips.

"Dean! Have you finished the lesson yet? I didn't see any students walking away from were you teaching them anyway- Oh no. You did _not _start off the lesson with that stupid crap of "what is this?" with that picture of the Impala, Dean. You did _not_-"

The person paused, only now realising the class was still _very much present_, and slowly turned on the spot to face the young witches and wizards who were watching like hawks.

"Uuuh," The newcomer said. "Um, class dismissed...?"

Malfoy was out of his chair and bolting out of the room before the newcomer even finished, and Crabbe and Goyle hurried along after him. But the majority stayed frozen, looking to their actual professor to see whether they could or not.

Professor Winchester stared after Malfoy and his goons, an insulted expression on his face. Then he glanced once at the newcomer and turned fully to address the remainder of his class.

"Okay, kids! Since Dean answered the question right, 10 points to the lion house – you red wearing guys. And _because _of the three young men that all just left before they've actually been told you, 10 points _off _the green guys. Dismissed."

Mutters and murmurs escalated as everybody filed out of the classroom, and on their way to their next lesson, Charms, Harry, Ron and Hermione looked at each other disbelievingly.

"_Bloody hell_," Ron said. "For someone who can't even remember the name's of the four houses, he's _bloody awesome_."

"I wonder who that other person was – he _must _be a teacher, and probably from America along with Professor Dean. They seemed to know each other. Maybe he's the other new teacher who'll be doing DADA." Hermione reasoned, seemingly dragging five books too many along with her.

Harry just grinned, replaying the lesson, and taking into account what both his friends said. "I don't know, but if that's how Muggle Studies is going to be from now on, I can't _wait _to see how Defence Against The Dark Art goes."

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><p><em>P.S. I apologise if any actual nameterminology is spelt wrong. It starts feeling really weird and everything seems wrong after the third time you write Gryffindor or Slytherin. And word is just making me doubt myself even more._

**Again, leave a review and get another soon! 8D**


	3. Lemon Drop?

**PROFESSORS WINCHESTER**

**Summary: **When Hogwarts received two new professors from the fated land of America, everybody was curious. But no one was more curious then one Harry Potter. A series of stories about Dean and Sam Winchester as professors at Hogwarts.

**A/N: **Oh my god! Thank you everyone _so much_ for the lovely reviews! Absolutely wonderful to wake up to find my inbox filled with story alerts and favourite story's and reviews and all sorts! I just wanted to remind everyone these stories are _not _in chronological order - so, this would be earlier then the two previous chapters (you'll see why), plus it's a lot more serious then the two as well. Again, forgive me if anything seem's off, or if there's something wrong here or there, and tell me so I can correct it! My memory of Harry Potter is extremely bad, and while here and there I'll ask google what something is (or how the hell to spell it), there's a chance I might get something wrong. _Also_, I don't make a point of regulating how much I write, I just start, write write, and stop where I think "ooh, this is a perfect place to stop" - so if this is short then you know why. But I do think the next chapter is a tad bit longer. But alas! Without further adieu (is that right?), I leave you to chapter three of Professors Winchester!

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><p><strong>- THREE -<strong>

**Lemon Drop?**

"Welcome, dear sirs, I am Professor Albus Percival Wulric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Glancing at the old face and the incredible long grey/white beard, Sam took it upon himself to shake the preferred hand, giving a polite smile in the face of his elder.

"The pleasure's all ours, Professor. I'm Sam Winchester, and this is my brother, Dean."

Dumbledore smiled widely and turned to greet Dean, stopping short when the full force of Dean's death glare hit him in the face. "Ah..." Dumbledore said, wisely keeping his hands to himself. "Yes, yes, it's a pleasure to have you both."

The old man manoeuvred himself behind his desk, sighing as he relaxed into his chair, gesturing for the Winchester's to take a seat themselves. Sam sat down on one of the incredibly comfortable chairs with no problems, and didn't bother trying to get Dean to stop standing behind him like a sentry. He knew his older brother still refused to possibly accept the notion that _maybe _not everything they hunted was 100% evil – but with that whole Lenore business, you'd think Dean would be a _bit _receptive to not having everything after his blood.

Dumbledore coughed, stroking his beard meaningfully and thrusting a bowl of sweets under Sam's nose. "Lemon drop?"

"Um, no thank you." Sam said slowly, head craned backwards so the wrappers weren't tickling his nose. "But thanks."

A hand came over his shoulder, grabbed a handful of the bright yellow sweets, and quickly retreated. Sam held back the urge to roll his eyes, though Dumbledore seemed immensely pleased at the action.

"Right!" The old man said, placing the sweets back on his desk. "Then, let's get straight to business, shall we men?"

Adjusting his glasses, the elderly man lost all mirth and amusement from his face, face morphing into one of utter seriousness and no games. Sam straightened up immediately at the change, eyes tacking in the quick transition, and behind him, the sound of a wrapper being opened was nothing but a soundtrack. Even if Dean ate his damn sweets, Sam knew his brother was ready, focused, tensed up, quick to take out the Colt and start shooting. He'd been ready right from the start, and Sam, for once, _really _didn't want to be wrong about this.

"I have reasons to believe you are both... _Hunters_... Correct?" Dumbledore asked, fingers laced together, holding his chin as his elbows lay on the desk. Sam felt no need to speak, so he settled for nodding, relaxing slightly when a heavy palm was put protectively on the back of his neck.

"Then, I'm afraid you must both be wary of our people – but I assure you, we witches and wizards in communities such as this are not the ones you must have faced."

Again, Sam nodded, but this time slowly, thoughtfully, because even if he _was _ready to believe this old guy, the paranoid hunter inside of him was still screaming at him to behead them all. "Even so, you _do _have witches and wizards among you that _are _like the type of people we hunt, right?"

A heavy sigh was his answer. "Yes, unfortunately we do, just as every community has it's dark people. But it is not as you think – _true _magic is not one born from serving demons, but from _inside _oneself. It is as much a part of us as our DNA."

"But you still have wizards and witches that _use _that magic for bad things."

Dumbledore conceded with a tilt of his head.

"Yes, and at this point, we are in the midst of a war _dealing _with the people that abuse magic as such."

The hand on his nape squeezed momentarily, a warning, a _'be careful'_, a _'be ready'_. Sam eyed a few portraits lined behind the aged wizard who were giving his brother the eye, but ultimately returned to watching Dumbledore. Dean would keep an eye on everything else. Politely, he gestured for Dumbledore to continue, and the wizened old wizard did just so.

"There is a Dark Lord by the name of Voldermort who uses nothing but the most evil of magic. His followers, the Death Eaters, and himself, are a grave matter the wizardry community must deal with. I fear _those _are the witches and wizards you yourselves are accustomed too."

"Yeah well, if this Voldy is such a big thing, how come none of the witches we toasted ever mention him before?" Dean interrupted, speaking up for the first time since they entered Hogwarts grounds.

Dumbledore raised his hands up in a non threatening sign, looking every bit his age, and spoke morosely. "I can not say, my friend. But it may have to do with the community rather then their allegiance. Our people fear mentioning the Dark Lord's name, in the off chance he may be able to find them because of it, so many have taken up to calling him He Who Must Not Be Named, and his followers the Dark Lord."

"Is there any actual goal he's trying to reach?" Sam asked, trying to put as much understanding and sympathy in his voice. It wasn't really hard, since he really _did _understand and have a butt-load of sympathy for the old man – he could see how this was shaving off what little few years Dumbledore had left.

"As a matter of fact, yes." Dumbledore answered. "He wishes to create a world of purebloods and purebloods only. A pureblood is someone of lineage, who's heritage is 100% purely magical, and they tend to not mix with other families. A halfblood would be someone of mixed blood, and a muggle born would be someone born from non-magical families and is the first wizard or witch in their line."

"So basically, he wants to kill every freakin' person who's mom and dad aren't cousins."

Sam spared a witheringly glare at his brother, frowning at him in a way Dean called 'the bitch face'. Message of 'shut up' appropriately sent, he turned back to Dumbledore, who was watching them both with a twinkle of amusement in his eyes, looking extremely youthful once more. A bit like Dean when seeing his baby (otherwise known as the Impala) after some time.

"I'm afraid so. But let's push that topic aside, and speak about how I think you two young men can help us here at Hogwarts."

Sam raised an eyebrow, but let the topic slide, nodding his consent. Dean, ever the diplomatically retarded, snorted loudly, but thankfully hushed when Sam sent him the most dirtiest look he could muster.

"And how can we do that, Professor?" The younger Winchester asked, threading his fingers together.

"I would very much like you two to become professors at this school."

"You want us to _what_?"

"_Dean!-_"

"-What would we even _teach_? How to shoot a gun and not accidentally kill your best friend?"

"Dean-"

"-How to fight off a demon when you're _thirteen years old_?"

"Mr. Winchester, I assure you, you have _more _then the qualifications to teach the subjects I have in mind."

Dean stared incredulously at the bearded old man, looking to Sam for explanation. "No seriously, _Gandalf_, _this _we cannot do."

Sam craned his neck backwards from his seated position, staring at Dean disbelievingly. It wasn't everyday when your big brother used a reference _and _spoke like Yoda to an old wizened man who could blow them apart with his magical wooden _stick_.

But Dumbledore must have not realised the insult, for he only smiled and popped one of the sweets into his mouth, sucking on them quite happily.

"Ah, but Mr. Winchester," The old man said pleasantly. "We have two subjects that are just your forte. In fact, I believe no one could be more perfect for the job besides you both."

"_And_," Sam stressed the word, cutting through before Dean could speak. "What would those subjects be?"

"Why, of course, they'd be Muggle Studies and..."

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><p><strong>Not much of a cliffhanger then half of you people have already guessed everything! But anyway, once more,<strong> leave a review and get another soon! 8D<strong>**


	4. Pure

**PROFESSORS WINCHESTER**

**Summary: **When Hogwarts received two new professors from the fated land of America, everybody was curious. But no one was more curious then one Harry Potter. A series of stories about Dean and Sam Winchester as professors at Hogwarts.

**A/N: **WHAT ARE YOU ALL DOING TO ME? Ffffff, do you know how it feels to be getting so much love from you all? You've done everything from favourite'ing, to alerting, to reviewing and putting _me _down on alerts and stuff. Three chapters in and already over _fifty reviews_! Were you all just desperate for a story that isn't romance or are you actually enjoying this? -suspicious look- But anyway, cookies for you all! And slightly longer chapter too! A few of you have asked when this is set in the timeline, how old Harry and co. are, things like that - I never actually bothered with a small detail like that, since I wanted to keep this story as 'something that happened but never changed the outcome', _buuuut_, just for you guys, I say this is probably somewhere around book 3, season five. Prisoner of Azkaban for Harry Potter (so they're in their third year), and somewhere in the middle of Season 5, after Changing Channels, maybe, but before Swan Song? You know, when _shit started getting real_, and stuff. With that said, anything to do with the stuff that happens below that is all 'omgod this is so wrong' is the fault of the corresponding show. it's not _my _fault they weren't good enough in their explaining so I'd remember. And Hagrid's accent is so _difficult_, gosh. But enough babbling, wall of text right here, so just scroll a little bit done (one index finger movement! or thumb!) and read the story. 8D

**A/N 2: **For some reason, I can't reply to everybody who reviewed the previous chapter, so I'll just say it here, _thank you all so much for taking the time to comment! _I hope I answered any questions you might have on the previous author notes, but if not, try asking me again on this chapter and I'll see if I can reply at all! Thank you again so much everybody!

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><p><strong>- FOUR -<strong>

**Pure**

It was somewhere around noon when Dean caught up to his little brother, falling into step with the taller man. Sam spared him a glance, but neither needed to speak to share acknowledgement, and instead, Sam completely returned his attention to tailing the small figures of the red and black wearing kids.

Dean stared at his brother for a minute, surprised he didn't get lectured for not wearing a damn _dress_ ("it's a _robe_, Dean. Stop being immature."). Curiously, he stared after where his brother was looking, following the taller man's rather shady method of stalking, and recognised the bright red hair of one of the Weasley kids walking next to the bushy one of that really smart girl and the messy black hair of that kid with the dorky glasses.

Why was Sammy stalking them? And really, Dean couldn't help but be impressed once more at how his behemoth little brother could actually _do _stalking with his giant frame. Still, the older Winchester tried poking his little brother in the side, frowning when all he got was a strange little wiggle and nothing more. So Sam was ignoring him now too. Stalking _and _ignoring.

Dean frowned harder.

Not to be dissuaded by being ignored, he jabbed his finger roughly in the soft part of his brother's kidney, feeling a vindictive satisfaction when Sam squirmed away and huffed in defeat.

"So, Sammy boy," Dean started playfully. "Why are you stalking the little British kids? Planning on seducing them with promises of candy?"

Another huff, and Dean was hit with a rather mild version of the Bitch Face. Still, the Winchester brothers kept to the walls, following after the three Gryffindor kids with surprisingly no difficulty. A few portraits were reduced to shock before they could call the brothers out when Dean flipped them the bird – and for once, Sam didn't say anything about it.

"Those three have a class outside on the grounds." Sam answered, voice distant and distracted.

"And this is important, _why_?"

"_Care of Magical Creatures, _Dean! _Magical creatures!_ Aren't you curious about what sort of _magical creatures_ they have?"

Dean blanched, shoulders going rigid and once more missing the firm presence of his shotgun. He didn't even have the Colt on his person, dammit! All of his weapons were carefully sealed back in their sleeping rooms, and neither Sam nor the Gandalf-wannabe allowed him to carry anything but the demon killing knife on his person. Something about scaring the children or something.

"So you wanna get your geek on, huh?" The older Winchester replied, finally understanding Sam's tunnel vision. The taller male was focused on nothing but the three children walking completely unaware in front of them. As if discovering that giant ass library wasn't enough, now Sam wanted to do his own research on _all _the classes. _'Figures.'_

Another Bitch Face was his reply. This one was more along the 'God Dean you're so annoying' range. Dean, with the experience of years behind his belt, completely ignored it, and began readying himself for the stress-inducing event of being near _magical creatures_.

Just because he was pretending to be a teacher for kids with wooden sticks, didn't mean he still thought any good of anything _supernatural_. Hell, just look at what happened to that Voldy guy!

The brothers, one focused and the other distracted, made their way through the large gates of Hogwarts, walking on the grounds after the three kids that had now become a small group of red-tie-wearing brats. From another corner, kids of the same age came, all wearing a blue tie in contrast to the red, and from another corner came a similar group consisting of green ties. The three groups converged together to become one whole mass of writhing bodies of black, green, blue and red.

Dean shuddered.

Sam didn't even bat an eye.

The group came together a few metres from a small hut, some ways away from the Forest of Death, and with the lack of objects to hide behind, the Winchesters stood behind them in clear view. A few of the more astute students spotted them, but their automatic curious and suspicious nature was cleared away when Dean waved enthusiastically and told them they were just curious.

Soon after, the large figure of Hagrid came out from the hut and down the small stairs, swaying sideways slightly with his giant figure. He came to a stop in front of the students, stroking his unkempt beard and grinning mischievously at the carefully guarded horde of students. He nodded in greeting to the Winchesters standing in the back, only getting a wave from the taller of the pair considering he personally didn't know the shorter very well.

Ah! But he had a lesson to teach!

"Right, kids. Welcome ta Care o' Magical Creatu'es. Good ta see yer all, a'right. Now, I got 'ere me something yer ain't never seen before." Hagrid stated proudly, patting his stomach as he rocked on his heels. He looked at the little kids in front of him, sharing a wink with Harry and his friends, not missing the glare the Malfoy boy was giving him. Oh well, he'd convert them all over to his side after he showed them this!

"Boys!" He turned around, facing the Forest of Death, and brought the little sea-shell like device he was wearing on his right hand, clicking the two sides together to make a clacking noise. He didn't miss the kids looking at each other in confusion, and was very pleased to see them all turn to look at the Forest of Death with excitement.

But one couldn't really call what was coming of the kids excitement, because Dean was very certainly calling it trepidation – and he was sharing it right along with them. The Winchester's were now in line with the kids, standing next to the group of black robes with green, red and blue highlighting – all of them angled towards the dark entrance of the forest. Sam was practically vibrating next to him, and Dean was struggling not to run back to their sleeping area and load himself up with rock salt. All he had on him was the demon killing knife! The demon killing knife! The _demon _killing knife!

Just as he wondered whether he should whip it out or not, out of the forest came white creatures. Figured like horses, there was something strange about them, and Dean's suspicious thoughts were confirmed when Sam gasped next to him, just as some of the kids did too. The horses were _completely _white, unnaturally so, nothing like normal white horses that had slightly different shades here and there – no, no, these horses looked like they'd been bleached of any other colour. And what was that? Did they have...? What?

Blinking in confusion, Dean squinted a bit harder, watching as the _things _came closer towards the sound of Hagrid's clacking. He wasn't sure, but it looked like the damn thing's had _horns _coming out of their forehead, like one horn coming out of the middle of their damn _forehead_ – like freaking _unicorns_-

"Dean, they're _Unicorns_."

"Oh you can't be _shitting_ me."

More gasps came from the rest of the kids on Sam's exclamation, and Hagrid practically started beaming as the kids stared wide eyed at the four creatures now in the open.

One unicorn (no matter how _wrong _that sounded in Dean's head) approached the black haired kid with the dorky glasses, sniffing him non threateningly.

"Go ahead, 'arry! Musta taken a shining to ya, lad."

The named Harry awkwardly started petting the creature, but then stopped when snickers and cruel laughing came from the Slytherins accompanied by a few awkward looks from the Ravenclaws.

"What?" Harry said, dread pooling in his stomach.

"Should've known, _Potter_." Malfoy spoke up, voice in it's usual sneer. "How _precious_." The snickers and laughing picked up a notch, and Harry looked around at his Gryffindor friends confused, the look echoed on Ron and a few other's face. It was a Ravenclaw that actually spoke up though, Padma Patil, looking awkward and like she wanted absolutely nothing to do with this.

"Unicorns are... Known for really liking only a certain type of people, Harry..." She said slowly. "They, uuh, only like people who are... _Pure_."

"Oh you mean like Purebloods?" Seamus spoke up.

"Not... Really..." Padma said in reply, looking uncomfortable. "Pure as in...-"

"-As in _virgin_, Potter!"

And the class dissolved into laughter.

Harry snatched his hand back from the unicorn's head like it was on fire, lowering his head as the laughter rang all around him. Well _of course _he was a_ virgin_, besides studying in Hogwarts, trying to stay alive from Voldermort and everything else, it wasn't like he had the time to try and get into a relationship, now would it? But kids being kids meant nobody even cared for such logic, and Harry prepared himself from the jibes that would surely come when the sound of frantic neighing caught everybody's attention.

Everybody looked up towards the sound of the noise just in time to see a unicorn trot away from the outstretched hand of one Professor Sam Winchester – who looked just as surprised as everybody else did. A few snickered when they got their bearings back, but nobody thought much on it – because Sam was an _adult_, and it would have been more embarrassing if he was a _virgin _and thus _pure_.

But then another unicorn was acting very friendly with Hagrid, and yet another was acting just as friendly with a certain student everyone knew was in a relationship with another – and serious. _Sure_, maybe Hagrid hadn't yet _popped his cherry_ (cough), but _everybody _knew the Slytherin had most certainly _popped his_ a long time ago.

So what was going on?

"Well, it doesn't _just _like virgins." Padma said intelligently, shrugging a fine shoulder. "That's just one of the types it likes. It's mostly someone who's pure of _heart_, as well as _body _that they like. _He_," A jerk towards the Slytherin. "Is still with his partner, so it's a _pure _thing, sort of. And professor Hagrid... Well, who _knows._"

A few shudders ran through the crowd, but now everybody was staring at a Sam Winchester with curiosity still in their eyes. What could be so bad about the kind professor to have a unicorn practically _run _from him.

Nobody knew. Nobody but Sam and Dean, that is. And Dean was cursing a blue streak inside his mind (because _children _were present) and looking at the barely contained _hurt _and _guilt _on his brother's face. The poor kid could never catch a break from the whole demon blood thing, nor the being-lucifer's-bitch too – and now a damn _unicorn _was getting all up in that too.

Sam just gave a tight lip smile at Dean, "no worries" he murmured, as if nothing was wrong with the world. But the smile looked like a grimace, his voice was five octaves too low, and the heartbroken look of _grief _in the grooves of his morally-upright little brother was as visible as the freakin' _unicorns_ were.

Really, what did those creepy looking things know about _pure_?

If they thought Sammy was any less pure because of the demon blood Azazel had _poisened _him with as a baby, and then all that crap with Ruby afterwards – _hell_, if they thought any less of his Sammy because the boy had been _fated _to be Lucifer's meat suit – well then, that just meant they'd think he was the opposite. Logically, if that's what they think and they're so _full of themselves those stupid white sons of bitc- _Then they should all be for licking and nuzzling and horse-humping Dean Winchester, the 'Righteous Man', angelicious (just ask Anna), and _Michael's meat suit._

Confident with his line of reasoning (sound logic, right there), Dean began to stride up to a grazing unicorn, just a random one of four, elbowing Sam in the ribs as to get his attention.

"Let's see if I'm pure or not, eh Sammy?" He said jokingly, making sure his brother was watching before turning his attention back to the damn unicorn. Two more steps, and the unicorn took notice of him, eyeing him in a way Dean was creeped out enough to say _distaste_. One more step and the unicorn tensed, practically daring him to take another. Not to be intimidated by a freaking white magical horse, Dean took the other step.

The unicorn turned tail and _ran._

And it didn't come back.

Silence. Everybody stared at a grinning Dean who swaggered back to his little brother. Nobody bothered even glancing at Sam, because while the unicorn had simply _walked _away from Sam (which could mean anything from being active in his love life to having a guilty pleasure or two), another had practically _run off to the forest_ and didn't seem to be _coming back_ any time soon from _Dean._

Dean grinned as soon as he saw Sam's face, and winked outlandishly. "Guess the unicorn just doesn't like an _active _man, lil' bro. And we all know I always get more of the _ladies _then you. Nothing personal, of course."

A few boys grinned at Dean's comment while a few girls frowned distastefully. But now, in the small clearing of their class, only three unicorns remained, and before Hagrid could start the lecture and teaching about the wonders of unicorns (and _ooh_, Sam was so _excited_!), a flutter of wings interrupted everybody's focus, and as one, the group turned to look at where the noise came.

There, next to Dean, unnaturally close to the man, was another man, messy black hair, piercing blue eyes, wearing a suit with a tan trench-coat covering it.

"Did you _see _that?"

"No way! He _apparated_!"

"You can't apparate on Hogwart's ground!"

"But he just _appeared_! Did you see him walking or something?"

"Maybe he came on a broom!"

"Then _where _is it? He's not holding it!"

"Is he wearing a trench-coat?"

"Technically it's an _overcoat_."

"He _apparated_! Apparated!"

Throughout it all, the newcomer technically wearing an overcoat seemed confused, surprised at the cries of confusion coming from the students. He tried speaking, only to be interrupted by another wizard or witch in training saying something about _apparating_, then tried again, then again, and once more – in the end, he just turned to Dean, stepping closer to the hunter until they were almost touching just so he could be heard.

"Dean, we need to speak-" Something bumped him on his hip.

"Dean-" Something bumped him again.

Befuddled, the angel looked down, only to see the whitest creature he'd ever seen, something with a horn sticking out of the middle of it's forehead, neighing softly and nuzzling into his coat. Curious, and fond of animals as it was, Castiel raised his hand and gently petted the horse-like creatures head.

Students snickered. Dean pointedly turned to look at Sam, jerking his head in Castiel's direction.

"See? Damn thing's bias. It's practically _impossible _to be as 'pure' as him!"

Sam just shook his head and smiled.

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><p><em>Next chapter is already four pages long and refusing to even get to the point. So you know. <em>**Fill in the time you'll wait for it by reviewing, eh?**


	5. Professor Winchester: the second

**PROFESSORS WINCHESTER**

**Summary: **When Hogwarts received two new professors from the fated land of America, everybody was curious. But no one was more curious then one Harry Potter. A series of stories about Dean and Sam Winchester as professors at Hogwarts.

**A/N: **I just had to plow through 3 and something pages of reviews for the last chapter, fffffff. My chest feels tight, I think I'm having a heart attack, and there's something in my eyes making them water and causing me to blink a lot. I obviously need to go to the doctors, don't I? Still, _longest chapter yet_, and it's what most of you have been waiting for! Professor Sammy! Pfft. Also, there's some important things I wanted to mention but now can't remember. Somehow, plot has creeped into this story. Oh, and this chapter follows _directly _after the last one, **Pure**. Kinda explains what the hell Winchester's are doing in Britain. And before you ask, I thought very hard and carefully on what creature for the lesson (you'll understand when you read), and I figured, wth, first year: learn theory on little mischievousness animals and theory on spells that could hurt people. second year: practical on mischievous creatures, and small practical on wayward spells (like that fire one or something). third year: theory on not-so-mischievious-as-actually-really-dangerous creatures and spells that can't do good but are usually _used _for good. and so on. see? I thought very long and hard. (like two seconds). bah, read on, people. read on.

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><p><strong>- FIVE -<strong>

**Professor Winchester**

_(The Second.)_

"So Cas, while it's nice to have you here and all, didn't we agree on limited contact?"

Castiel nodded morosely, angling his body towards Dean where the hunter was seating himself on a comfortable looking bed. Sam sat down on the bed next to that, and the brothers shuffled over to the corners towards each other unknowingly making it easier for Castiel to stare at them both without much trouble.

"I am aware of the agreement." The angel said monotonously. "However, I'm certain no one has followed me. Bobby..." Even now, calling the much older hunter by his name felt strange on the angel's lips. "Wishes to ascertain you are both doing well. Particularly you, Dean. He seems to believe you'll... 'Raise hell the moment they wave their sticks'."

He noticed Sam giving his brother a significant look, though didn't really understand the meaning behind it. Used to not understanding bits and pieces of the way the hunters interacted with each other, including all the references they made, Castiel brushed it aside. "I do not particularly understand why waving a... Stick, would cause what I presume to be a negative reaction from you, Dean. But I hope you know something of that nature could... 'Blow the cover.'"

"I'm not going to do anything!" Dean said defensively, looking between his brother and the angel. "Come on! I just got _dissed _by a unicorn. Threatened to be snitched on to someone's _father_, and accepted that food _does _magically appear on my plate every time I finish it. Don't you think it's a little too late to be _lecturing _me about this, _mom_." The last was directed at Castiel. "And _dad_." Now at Sam. "As long as no damn demons or dick brothers of yours come knocking, I'm going to make the best of this damn thing. I think I deserve a holiday anyway, dammit."

A huff of laughter came from Sam, and Castiel noted the younger man looked much better then he had a moment ago when he'd first arrived. He'd been surprised to see the guilt ridden look on the younger Winchester's face, one that looked very similar to the times Dean accidentally mentioned the demon blood, or any other of the numerous mistakes the taller male had committed – but then the look had gone when the very nice unicorn had greeted him, so the angel hadn't pondered much on it.

Stiffly, the angel seated himself on a chair, still facing the two humans, and told them of the search hunters, demons _and _angels were conducting back in America for the missing Winchesters. He spoke matter of factly, as if giving a report, and one of the reasons he found himself fitting in so well with the small group of humans was the fact they listened intently, asked suitable mission/report-related questions, and acted uncannily similar to many of the soldiers Castiel called brothers up in Heaven. Bobby had said it was because of the boy's father, something about the man, John, having been a soldier himself – one of Earth, but nevertheless still a soldier. And from what Castiel knew of the brothers, he could easily tell they'd been raised as soldiers too. Something like that was simply _ingrained _in someone's body, in their language, the way they moved and how they responded to things. Not only that, but whenever Bobby wanted to get his voice across, he always used what he called the 'commander' voice. Apparently, it 'shut them idjits up good every time'.

Castiel couldn't help but agree.

"The Enochian sigils I ingrained on your ribs are still keeping you hidden from every angel, including myself. As for demons, they have no reason to search for you here, nor will they, these communities are skilled enough to have enochian signs of their own in places even I did not expect."

"Woah, woah, you mean pointy hats know how to keep out _angels_? Didn't think they even _knew _you guys existed."

"I believe they are not consciously aware." Castiel replied, inclining his head in acknowledgement of the question. "However, they have many books and artifacts that are centuries old – this very castle happens to be one of the few standing from long ago. The mere power it holds in itself is worrying, but not evil. It seems to sense a person's intent – it will not allow anyone with anything less then good intentions to pass through it's doors."

Sam nodded intelligently. "Yeah, Professor Dumbledore said that, as well as laying hints that the castle's actually alive. Is it? I've never heard of Hogwarts before, and I think a sentient castle, no matter what country is in, would have somehow gotten into hunter's feed – or angels, at the very least."

"Oh come on," Dean gripped disbelievingly. "You _seriously _believe this damn castles _alive_? It's just bricks and stones held together with the magic of waving wooden sticks. And that old man's off his rockers. _Doesn't even know who Gandalf is._"

"Who... Is Gandalf?"

Dean waved a dismissing hand at him, and the angel blinked and turned to Sam, only to see an apologetic look even Castiel could guess. Ah, one of those references again. Well, at least it looked like _he _wasn't the only one that didn't understand everything Dean said. Perhaps he'd like this Dumbledore.

"But even _if _we can find something in these libraries these guys have, or in the lessons they teach, or _whatever_, even if we can find something to help us get rid of Lucifer and shut Daddy's Boy up, we can't just stay here longer then necessary to get it."

And with those words, the mood returned back to the 'War Zone' it'd been before, Dean's serious words hanging above them like an ominous cloud. Many words went unspoken, like how staying here longer then necessary could end in the angels, or demons, or even hunters, finding them in the heart of the wizardry community and taking the witches and wizards down with them. Or like how these people seemed to be in a war of their own, and while both the Winchester's would have loved to stay and _help_ fight the good fight, they already had the _apocalypse _hanging on their heads, and couldn't deal with a dark lord using dark magic not borne from demons.

Castiel understood this, even more the casualties of war, and knew without a doubt it was irritating Dean at the very least from being unable to at least hit a book or two or interview a few people to see how they could help against the dark wizard. The angel had heard that Sam used to be the more morally upright of the Winchester's, seemingly ready to do the illogical just to help people, while Dean was the more brutally realistic and knew when to cut his losses (even if he didn't like it or deal with it in a healthy way) – but lately, it seemed as if the roles had been switched, or at least, to Castiel's view, Dean was the one that wanted to save every single soul he came across, and Sam was the one that would see the bigger picture rather then the small details.

Sometimes, it made him wonder about these two humans.

"The only possible trouble we may get are from Balzathar or Crowley. Both are highly... Knowledgeable about these parts of the world, unlike other angels and demons."

"What? Their accents? So what, both of them spend way too much time up in these woods? Great, just _great_. At least they're on _our _side, or neutral. Or whatever the hell Balzathar is."

Castiel frowned, torn over agreeing with Dean or disliking the manner in which the human spoke of both 'threats'. "Either way, I've laid many anti-demon works around this whole area to go with the already laid protection. Balzathar cannot find you, just as I can't, nor should he be able to enter anywhere around here with any harmful intentions. I cannot make the place... 'Angel-proof', as you say, because then that would limit me in my ability to contact you both should the need arise."

Both brothers nodded, understanding. So Castiel carried on. "Good. So you are both aware to stay here until... 'The heat cools off'?"

Dean grinned at the reference, a little pride and smugness in his eyes at Castiel speaking 'human' while Sam rolled his eyes in barely repressed amusement. Castiel frowned at them both, wondering whether he'd gotten the reference wrong, but carried on either way.

"Bobby has told me to pass on the information to use this opportunity to recharge your spirit, and maybe find a method or two to help once you return. He says to not worry about anybody or anything, he and the other hunters shall continue to help people. His advice seems plausible, and I have nothing else to add on."

"So we just have to stay here 'till the angels stop mind-talking us into saying yes, until demons stop trying to kill _me –_ oh don't look at me like that, Sam, you're their _father's pet_, they'd piss themselves if you told them too – and just use this chance to recharge and maybe see if the Art of the Magic Stick community happen to know a thing or two about stopping _Lucifer_?"

Both Sam and Castiel stared disapprovingly at the incredulous Dean, and simultaeniously turned as one to each other.

"Thank you, Castiel." Sam said, eyebrows dipping together in his empathetic expression. "I hope the angels aren't being too much trouble to you, asking about us."

The angel shook his head once, constantly keeping eye contact with the younger Winchester. "I've taken up a... Vacation, if you will, myself. Bobby's home happens to be a safe haven, and his books are... Refreshing to read. We are both keeping ourselves busy with proof-reading all of his material, and making sure they are correct."

Sam smiled, laughing a little, then took a glance at his wristwatch – the one piece of technology they had that wasn't malfunctioning. He stood up, slapping at his clothes as if there was anything to dust off in the first place, and making sure the long piece of black robe was properly in place.

"That's great, Cas." He said genuinely. "Are you going to stay with us for a while longer?"

"Yeah, Cas," Dean joined in, leaning back on his bed. "You could join us for dinner, I'm sure some of the kids wanna ask you about that 'apparating' you've been doing."

"I'm afraid not," The angel replied, cocking his head to the side in confusion at that word, _apparating_, again, wondering why he would be doing something he had never heard of. "I can't be certain the angels won't find a way to track _me_, so it would be best if I were where they think I am. At Bobby's home. But I will be checking in with you from time to time." He stood up in one fluid movement, following Sam who was walking towards the door, and both stopped when they reached it.

"Well, if we do need anything," Sam began up again. "We can just send you a mail or something through the Owl system these guys have. I don't think any of Bobby's protection would interfere with them since they're apparently not magical."

Castiel nodded once, satisfied. "Then I'll be going."

And with a flutter of wings, he was gone.

"So I need to be going to class, anyway." Sam spoke up, blinking to force his brain to accept the disappearance act of the angel, looking to Dean.

"Oh yeah, you got the defence class, right? With that guy too, what's his name...?"

"Remus Lupin, Dean. I know you haven't met him yet, but I'd have thought you'd have memorised every staff member's whole _profile _by now."

Looking offended, Dean held a hand to his chest. "Do you think me to be so _paranoid_, Sammy? I've got everybody else to pat, but since you'll be in close quarters with this guy, I'm leaving him to you. Can't be going round doing _all _the work, can I?"

Sam huffed, not at all amused, and opened the door. "Whatever," he said like a petulant teenage girl. "I'm going to go, anyway. _Teach class_. Like it's _supposed _to be taught. No Impala's."

And while he was closing the door, his brothers cries of "Everybody should know what a car is!" filtered through to his ears and had him frowning in annoyance through the hallways. But the annoyance didn't last long, for once more, the mere surroundings that was Hogwarts captivated him, and he found himself unable to even keep his attention on where he was walking as he stared in awe at every little thing that moved. And in a place as big as the castle, _everything _moved, from the portraits that could talk, to the suits of armour with their good conversations, to even the _stairs_.

A few times he made the wrong turn, but soon, with just a minute to spare, the taller Winchester found himself in front of his classroom. When he opened up the door and walked in, he was greeted with the kind face of Remus Lupin, the professor in charge of the magical aspects of Defence Against The Dark Arts. Kids were already seated, but disorganized and some just sitting down right then, so Sam took the opportunity to walk up besides the professor with an apologetic smile.

"Sorry, professor. Got lost a few times."

Lupin smiled, looking bone deep tired and pale in what Sam figured to be a constant. "No problems, no problems at all. I assure you, Hogwarts can be confusing to anyone."

Nodding, both Sam and Lupin turned towards the students, and Sam winced at the curse that sounded very much like Dean at the sight of all the different colours on the black robes. Green, blue, yellow and red – one for each house, each signifying an animal, a name, a basic _trait_ all shared by those wearing the same colours. No wonder Dean had pawned off this lesson to him right from the start.

A week of this. Five days of dealing with every house in this surprisingly not small classroom. Oh well, knowing Dean would deal with this next week was a small but much needed comfort.

"Right, class!" Professor Lupin began, coughing to grab the student's attention. All the kids quieted down, fidgeting slightly in their excitement. Sam was still finding it surprising every time he heard that these kids _wanted _to learn Defence Against the Dark Arts – apparently, they hadn't had any good teachers for the past few years. But he didn't mind it so much, the will to learn something that could potentially save your life was something Sam found very encouraging. He'd already promised himself that he'd try and teach these kids _something _to help them along with their life in the small time he'd be here, and he had every intention of carrying on that promise.

Once silence was fully restored in the class, Lupin smiled warmly, and started off the lesson as the two professors had planned.

"Hello, everybody, and welcome to Defence Against the Dark Arts. My name is Remus John Lupin,"

"And I'm Sam Winchester."

The two professors glanced at each other in passing, and Sam carried on.

"As I'm sure you all know, me and my older brother, Dean Winchester, are from America. There, we do things a little... _Differently._"

Lupin nodded. "And as such, Professor Winchester here will be teaching you all a different perspective on the lesson's we'll be taking."

"Basically," Sam added on, seeing a few confused faces among the crowd. "Professor Lupin will teach you all the normal lessons, how to deal with things using magic. But _I'll _be teaching you how to deal with things when magic isn't available."

A hand shot up from the crowd of teens, and Remus waved a hand for the young Hupplepuff to speak.

"But magic is inside us, sir- _sirs_." The boy stuttered, "When will we _not _have magic to help?"

"How many of you can use wandless magic?" Sam answered the question with a question. Children looked at each other, but after a few moments, none raised their hands. Remus smiled next to him, and Sam smiled back, treading carefully in his plan to leave a good impression on the kids. "So what do you plan on doing if you don't have your wand on you? Or, if your wand gets knocked out of your hand? Or broken?"

The horrified looks that came on all of their faces was hilarious for the non-wand-wielding-human, and Sam tried hard enough not to laugh at them and their pain. All he could do to get the grin off his face was substitute their wand for something that was meaningful to him... Well... The only thing he could think of was a gun, and he'd had guns slapped out of his hands so many times that wasn't really frightening. But he really couldn't grin, so something to make him understand their pain was in order, and he knew _just _the thing.

Dean with no Impala.

Yup, that destroyed any mirth he held right there.

He'd seen Dean with the broken remnants of the car, had seen how his brother refused to show it even affected him but seemed lost without the black beauty, and knew without a doubt these kids had the same bond with their what-seamed-at-first-glance-useless wands like Dean had with his just-another-car Impala.

Satisfied that the cruel message had been delivered, Sam carried on, now speaking seriously and with deeper meaning. "It's not a nice thought, I know. But this is _Defence_ Against the Dark Arts, and only being able to defend yourself with _one _thing is just asking for trouble. So, in the case you're unable to use your wand, _for whatever reason_, I'll be teaching you what to do."

Expressions hard and determined, the children nodded, sitting resolutely in their seats and paying vivid attention.

"Wonderful." Remus said, clapping his hands together. "Then let's begin. Today, we'll be learning about Wendigo's."

"Right. Now turn to page 394."

Somebody laughed, and Sam looked confused for a moment as the serious and determined vibe of the room turned into humour and amusement. Sharing a glance with Remus told him the wizard professor had no clue what the kids found funny, so Sam turned back to the kids and simply shrugged, watching the kids dutifully turn the pages to the requested number with knowing grins on their faces.

Once everybody seemed to have their books at the right page, the teachers dived right into the lesson, picking up where the other left off, following the plan they'd laid out for the lesson with a sort of synchronized movement borne from two similar personalities complimenting each other.

"A Wendigo, as you see in your book, is a creature that is hundreds of years old, and largely believed to be limited to certain areas of America. As you can see in paragraph three, that is not completely correct. A Wendigo can appear any time and anywhere if it meets the full requirements."

A gasp, Remus paused to see a few sick looks as the children skimmed through the text.

"That's right." The adult wizard said sadly. "Wendigo's were once human, but due to whatever circumstances, were forced to eat human flesh. You all look so very young, just children, but with _magic _inside you, giving you great responsibilities. Defence Against the Dark Arts is just as it says, a defence. And not just any defence, but one against the _Dark Arts_. There is a reason why certain aspects of magic are called _dark_, why certain spells and practices are forbidden and frowned upon. It's because they are like this, like Wendigo's, too realistic and gruesome to believe possible. In this year, we will only be touching upon the... Less unsavoury aspects of DADA. But be warned, each term, each year, will progressively climb in this gritty nature."

"You must all remember, from here on," Remus continued, "That the greatest of evil was most likely once good. For only one that knew the side of good can know just how to be evil."

Sam frowned in sympathy, realising that without the last years of a stable teacher for a class so serious, nobody had truly readied the children for the serious aspect behind _anything _called _dark_. But now they would, now Sam and Remus would teach these children just what was out there in the world, and how to defend themselves. They would _prepare _the children to face anything that came their way.

And Sam, well, Sam would prepare the children for _Dean_, too. His brother tended to take lessons to do with keeping oneself safe very seriously. _Hunt_-like serious.

"So," Sam coughed up after waiting for Remus' impromptu lecture of sorts to sink in. "These are Wendigo's. Previously, they were humans, but after hundreds of years, they've... _Morphed_, in a sense, to something completely different. They're not stupid, not at all, and generally tend to have the same intelligence as any other normal human being, but they've been blinded by a sense of greed, of _hunger_, and even when they're not hungry they hunt."

Remus expertly picked up. "They're quick, agile, extremely powerful and not to be trifled with. If you are faced with any, your best bet is an _Incendio_, which we shall begin learning this lesson."

"And once you've learned that spell, we'll teach you what to do in the off chance you don't have your wand to use that spell, and what sort of items can be used to start a fire, or, technically, to set _them _on fire."

The class mulled the information over, slowly coming to terms with the new knowledge, and their faces went from young and naïve to innocent, but determined. So very determined.

The Winchester's may not have been able to stay behind and _really _make a difference, but, with the help of Remus, they'd hopefully start the process, and leave it to the adults of the community to carry it through.

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><p><strong>Please leave a review everyone! And thank you to all anons! loves all over**


	6. Geminos

**PROFESSORS WINCHESTER**

**Summary: **When Hogwarts received two new professors from the fated land of America, everybody was curious. But no one was more curious then one Harry Potter. A series of stories about Dean and Sam Winchester as professors at Hogwarts.

**A/N: **I _absolutely _love you _all_, five chapters in and as of typing this up we're at 110 reviews. _A hundred and ten reviews_. As to express my undying gratitude and love, I'll upload this, _then _reply to all the reviews that I haven't already. Other then that, here's chapter 6. We'll be returning to the Hogwarts kids perspective (since that's a hell of a lot more fun), and this chapter has way to much Weasley twins in it for it to be healthy. But I love those two, they're my favourite, and I was feeling _very emotional _with how the last book ended (_oh god, how could you Queen Rowling? How?_). Mentions of an episode or two of Supernatural (the one where Henrickson gets blown up. -snorts- and the one where Dean has that prison mugshot done of him with him all pout lips and all). Feel free to give ideas for future chapters. I think this story will only be a maximum of ten chapters (I have other projects you know!), so anything you want to see, make sure to tell me! Chronologically, this is _before _**Professor Winchester: The First**, the end leads right onto the beginning of that. Shameless use of english/latin translators on the web, so be warned. **edit: **changed 'forest of death' to 'forbidden forest' (I blame naruto), thanks to **Katsheswims** for the correction. oh and changed the twin's year from sixth to fifth, got it wrong too (pft), thanks to **Maybird123**. I probably shouldn't be so happy to have things pointed out, but I _am_!

And I really write long author's notes, don't I? /shame

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><p><strong>- SIX -<strong>

**Geminos**

_Twins_

"So I heard you lot got a bit close and personal with the dementors, eh?"

Harry sighed, wondering whether the whole school already knew about it.

"Ugly buggers they are, those lot." The other twin joined in, bracketing the other side of the dark haired boy.

"Bony..."

"Lanky..."

"Depressing..."

"And right ol'..."

"_Weird_."

But then again, thought Harry, the Weasley twins knew _everything_. Anything and everything that happened in the walls of Hogwarts, even outside. Made one wonder whether they even needed the Marauders Map or not in the first place.

Fred (or was it George?) wrapped an arm around Harry's shoulder, George (or was it Fred?) completing the strange sideways hug by putting his own arm around Harry too. Stuck in the middle of the taller teens, Harry was forcibly manoeuvred from one stairs to the other, being pushed left and right as to not crash into suits of armour, walk through a passing ghost, or bump into another student.

"And we 'eard a strange sorta fellow saved you all." One of the twins sang, nudging Harry to the left just in time to miss a hissing Slytherin.

"And offered you chocolate."

"Was it nice chocolate?"

"It bloody well better be nice chocolate. No second rate chocolate for our Harry, nosiree."

"And Ron, Fred."

"Oh right, Ron too. And Hermione I guess."

Unwillingly amused by the parried conversation, Harry relaxed his body as to make it easier for the taller twins to move him to their will. That way, he wouldn't have as many bruises as he would if he actually resisted. They were going to move him _anyway_, what the twins wanted, the twins got.

He'd learned that lesson quite quickly. And frankly, he should have just taken Ron's advice at face value right from the moment he'd been introduced to the Weasley family, and consequently, the Weasley twins.

The trio of Gryffindor's were making their way down from two different locations, Harry from the Nurse's office, and the twins from the Gryffindor Common Room, all of them going down the snaking labyrinth of Hogwarts towards the large great hall. Harry didn't really know what the twins were doing to not already _be _in the hall, along with everybody else that had just arrived – hell, the only reason he was out was because of that whole dementor-incident and Madame Pomfrey wanting to look him over – but he could barely get a word in, let alone an actual question of whatever suspicious shenanigans the twins had most likely just finished setting up.

Hopefully, considering they were steering him _away _from the Common Room, it wasn't targeted at him.

The noise and bustle grew louder as the trio steadily went further downwards, and it was with great flourish the twins, still pitching with each other's voices, presented him to the people of the great hall at large. Ron was first to spot them, immediately becoming suspicious and wary like he always did around his twin brothers, and only nodded once at Harry, too scared to actually grab the two Weasley's by Harry's side's attention. Hermione was in a completely different world of her own, mouth going a mile a minute as she sat down next to Ron, who both looked like they too had just arrived from the Infirmary where Madame Pomfrey had kept Harry behind and made them 'run along'.

For what it looked like to Harry, Hermione was in a heated debate about something with a few of the other girls. He wasn't sure, had no clue what they could possibly be arguing about so early in the year (on the first day, in fact!), but was too busy feeling the hairs on his nape standing with the creepy way the twins were shoving him this way and that to get him to sit opposite his friends.

They sat on either side of him.

Ron pointedly looked elsewhere.

Hermione spared them a glance, gave a disapproving look to both the twins (who looked back innocently), and returned right back with a new argument on whatever point she was trying to make. It surprisingly turned out she and the other girls were arguing about the two chairs empty on the teachers table, where Dumbledore and all the other professors sat. One of the chairs next to Dumbledore housed the tired looking figure of the man that had saved Harry and his friends on the train – Remus Lupin, if he remembered correctly. But next to him, on the far right, two seats were... Empty.

Fred and George glanced at the chairs, paying extra attention to the girls bickering, and Harry found himself listening in too.

"-Be anyone! And with that tired looking guy sitting in the DADA seat, there's no other positions available!"

"Well maybe it's to do with security! Along with the dementor's!"

"Oh _yes_, the ghastly creatures that terrorised you and your friends on the train!" One girl said primly, glaring at Hermione.

"_Yes! _The _ghastly creature _that Professor Lupin saved us from!"

"Then pray tell, _what _would two _normal people _be able to bring to Hogwarts that's as important, or _useful_, as _dementors_."

"I don't understand why you have to be so _negative_, Lavender!" Hermione shot back angrily. "If Professor Dumbledore decides to take further action for the _security _of Hogwarts, then that's absolutely fine! Better then fine! It's absolutely _genius!_"

Harry tuned them out slowly, looking across the table at Ron, who was unnervingly staring at him. Once Ron had Harry's attention, the youngest boy of the Weasley family began a rapid set of hand signs, head jerks, facial expressions and body movements, and Harry, once assuring that Fred and George really _were _too engrossed with Hermione's argument with Lavender Brown and Alicia Spinnet, returned the favour with even more rapid sign language and body movements.

They got enough conversation in by the time the sorting hat was finished with the first years, completely ignoring the song for once. Ron now knew why Harry was seen _'fraternizing with those two _demonic_ twins_', and Harry now knew that _'no worries mate, Madame Pomfrey said me and Hermione will be right as rain. The chocolate helped.'_

Then came the food, appearing in a blink of an eye on everybody's table, food stacked up on each other, drinks fill to the brim, cups and dishes and cutlery everywhere – only for it to all be accompanied by a loud yelp and the sound of a falling chair.

Hermione shut up for once to see what the commotion was, and everybody's eyes fastened onto the two previously empty seats where now two men were. The one on the furthest right was sitting, looking at the other new guy separating him from the other professors with an exasperated look. The man next to Remus and Snape (who was looking absolutely murderous in his own detached way), though, was standing, chair on the floor behind him, long dangerous knife in hand and staring at the food on his table as well as everybody else's table like he was seeing Merlin himself. Then the short haired guy started speaking to the one next to him, pointing wildly at the food with heavy arm jerks, twitches and no sense of polite language _at all, _and the guy that was sitting just looked at him and stopped him with one word _everybody heard_.

"_Dean_."

The apparently named Dean smacked his mouth together at the annoyed tone, looking insulted and completely disbelieving, waved his hands at the food a few more times, huffed angrily and righted his chair, throwing himself back on it with a dark glower. Snape was giving him one of the most disgusted sneers Harry had ever seen, something which was surprisingly being matched by the irritated glare on the unnamed, brown-haired man's face sitting next to the supposed 'Dean'.

"Anyone that can _match _old Snape's sneers with his own frowny face is someone not to be trifled with, I reckon." One of the twins muttered off handedly.

Still, nothing more came of the two men, the guy called Dean (or was it a title? Was he the dean of something?) was looking at the food in front of him with this sneer incredibly similar to the one Snape wore every time someone said something stupid in his class. Like a mixture of disgust, morbid fascination (_"is it possible to be this stupid?"_) and a hint of disbelief. Actually, both the new guys were similar to each other.

In _size_.

They both looked huge, especially next to Snape's deceptively not that-long frame. And from what Hermione was calculating and mumbling to every other Gryffindor in ear shot, the two new guys must be at _least _six foot themselves, if the calculations of there height corresponding to Snape's could be believed. Which was surprisingly taller then a _lot _of the professors at Hogwarts. And the guy that was giving 'Dean' a dirty look seemed taller then _everybody _minus _Hagrid_. He was at least a head higher then all the other seated professors save for the pre-mentioned half giant.

Dumbledore, with one cough, stood up gracefully from his seat, taking everyone's attention to himself. He started with his customary yearly speech, reminded everyone that the Forbidden Forest was off limits, and the restricted things Filch had up that nobody paid attention too. Then, just as Hermione had said so to Lavender and Alicia, Dumbledore went on to introduce a Remus Lupin as the new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor.

Then Dumbledore bade everyone goodnight.

Just like that.

Goodnight.

"How suspicious," Fred began.

"How very suspicious." George followed.

"How..."

"...Utterly..."

"...Very..."

"...Suspicious." They both finished together.

Harry shared a glance with Ron and Hermione, once more feeling like being caged by two very playful lions, and could just _hear _their brains whirling with devious intent.

Then they both got up simultaneously, as one, all gangly limbs and fiery red hair, and patted Harry on the head like a pet dog.

"Well, if you all don't mind..."

"... We'll be retiring to our rooms..."

"... So we can get up bright..."

"... And early..."

"... For tomorrow."

Then they were gone, slinking away, like playful lions with a target in sight.

And over at the staff table, the two strange men were gone just like that.

"I hope to _Merlin's beard_ those two don't confront the new guys." Ron whispered, pale with fear.

Hermione showed no mercy by brutally ignoring him.

Next morning at the Great Hall made way for every table to become a giant cacophony of rumours, gossips, theories and conspiracies. Nobody cared about the dementors. Very little actually cared about the supposed convict on the loose. And not one person even bothered to give Harry Potter – The Boy Who Lived – a second glance.

Instead, practically everybody was buzzing about who on Merlin's right eyebrow the two men spotted last night were. Already, schedules had been given out, and _everybody_ – downright _everybody –_ had noticed that both Muggle Studies and Defence Against the Dark Arts had _'Professor Winchester' _written in the professor slot. The latter lesson technically had _'Professor Lupin & Professor Winchester' _written on it, but nobody cared about the tired looking man anymore – not after the first night.

Oh no, the focus was on whoever this _Winchester _was.

"I say it's one of the two men from last night." Hermione was saying that morning, sitting next to Ron who was opening up a letter from his mum. "Whichever one it is, the other is probably an assistant or something, probably not really a professor."

"So why would he be teaching two lessons, then?" Ron replied, voice distracted as he read over the letter with a slight frown. Harry was busy eating his food, and a look at the staff table in the off chance case either men from last night would be there showed nothing but two empty seats to the far end, just like it'd been before Dumbledore's speech and after.

"Well, Professor Lupin was announced as the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, right? And his name is placed first on the schedule, so I'm pretty sure it means he's the official teacher for that subject. As for Muggle Studies, that only has this Professor Winchester written on it, meaning he'll be taking over that lesson."

Fred and George, sitting opposite the trio, frowned slightly, the expression directed more towards the hushed conversation they were having then anything else. Harry watched them dubiously, looking at the stack of paper's and an envelope they held in between them, each holding a side. They were acting very strange, at least, what was strange for _them_, but Harry in no way would actually risk his neck by _asking _about it. Oh no, Harry and Ron had _Hermione _for that.

"Honestly," Hermione spoke again, bristling as the twins once more went into deep hushed conversation. "What _is _it that you two _have _there?"

The twins looked up as one, knowing full well Hermione was a force to be reckoned with, but before they could even reply, the stack of papers was completely yanked from their hand, and Hermione primly began leafing through it. Harry and Ron simultaneously leaned over her shoulders (she was sitting between them, as usual), and began reading it, Ron outloud, mostly to himself.

"_We've called around, asked about, can't say we know much. But what we do know about that name is damn mighty good info – the year should be damn interesting for you brats. And with this, I'm damn sure any outstanding debts on my end are done for, we're even, no more blackmailing me to get you two whatever crazy half assed crap you suddenly feel like getting – ya hear? Go bother someone else next time; and see if I ever ask you for anything again. Damn devils you are, the both of ya, if yer traps weren't so good for keeping them damn muggles outta my hair I'd write a letter to the Ministry o' Magic. And every other Ministry o' Magic in the world. And __your shipment should be coming in 'bout a week – was hard enough getting half the crap you asked for from here in the U.S., even harder getting it through MoM's screening process – damn brits, ya all are. And I know I'm technically one of you's, but I ain't been a Brit for a damn long time. Either way, you boys stay careful round those two men, they ain't no normal muggles, that much I can tell ya. Damn dangerous from what I can see."_

The paper went blank after that, Hermione was leafing through the rest with a sort of speed every Ravenclaw envied, and only once her eyes went through the last paper were the twins finally able to grab it right back out of her grubby hands. Harry only saw flashes, Ron even less – but what they _did _see seemed like a full on report on the _Winchester's, _and they saw two pictures, two pictures of the men that had been seating on the two seats on the far end last night at the great speech of the first day of Hogwarts.

Somehow, the twins had gotten _info _on the two men. And quickly, since it was only the next day. And _damn _if that didn't strike the fear of Merlin in Harry.

"_Bloody hell_," Ron breathed out, staring at his brothers with something like frightened awe. "You know people in _America_?"

A dramatic sigh came from the twins, both of them deflating with an exhalation of breath together, and they both shrugged at their brothers question, folding the papers neatly together and stuffing it into the envelope. Some incredibly creepy eye-conversation passed through them with Hermione, and Harry soon realised the three had come to a sort of conclusion as Hermione sat back in her chair and began eating with a satisfied _air _about her.

"No, seriously," Ron carried on, for once braving the risk of getting on the twin's ire. "How do you guys know anybody from _America?_"

"Oh come off it, Ron." George (or was it Fred? The two _loved _messing around by wearing each other's clothing.) shot back, sticking a chip in his mouth. "It's just a friend of Charlie's we asked a favour off. You know he works in America every now and then."

"Yeah, Ron." Fred (who was wearing a sweater underneath his robe with an initial G on it – so by all means he might honestly be George.) joined in. "_We_, unlike _some people_, actually like to know about good ol' Charles life, his work, and all that good stuff. Dragons are right interesting, they are."

"B-But, Charlie works in _Romania!" _Ron persisted, causing both Harry and Hermione to look at him in surprise. He really was being brave (or just plain stupid) and the twins too were raising an eyebrow at the surprising act of defiance. "And it says there you _blackmailed _him, whoever that poor sod is. Does Charlie know? Does he know you're harassing his work-mates, or whatever?"

"Harassing, you say?" Fred purred. "Didn't know you even _knew _what blackmail meant, little brother."

"Yes, _little brother_." George purred along. "But too bad for you, _Charlie _was the one that _introduced _us. We happen to have skills of use that people are in need off."

"That's right, _little brother_." Picked up Fred. "We have _skills of use _we use to _help _people. And if those people we _help_,"

"Want to help _us_,"

"Then by all _means_,"

"We won't hold,"

"Them,"

"_Back._"

Ginny popped up out of nowhere, swaying as she plopped into the seat next to Fred/George, opposite Ron. She smiled sleepily at everyone, yawning as she slowly put food on her plate. The twins snickered to themselves, then promptly began irritating her to wakefulness, conveniently ending the topic of discussion. Ron wisely dropped the subject, dejectedly eating the remainder of his food, and Harry for one really wondered just how interesting his third year would be.

The morning passed by uneventfully, Harry learned about Sirius Black, the convict that escaped from the prison of Azkaban, and was soon making his way to his first lesson, Herbology. Later on that day, the third year Gryffindors and Slytherins had Muggle Studies with the much-talked about _Professor Winchester_, and pretty much all the attending students were excited about it.

But until then, everything would just be the normal excitement of Hogwarts.

"Well look at _you_, Samantha, looking good in that dress."

"It's a _robe_, Dean, and you should be wearing it too."

Sam scowled as Dean snickered, self consciously tugging at the sleeves of the black robe he wore over his usual jeans and flannel shirt. Dean was still just wearing his leather jacket, jeans and boots, looking so completely out of place it was practically a crime for him to be there, but the idiot (or _idjit_, as anybody that hung around Bobby for even an hour was prone to use) had made it abundantly clear he wouldn't be wearing the robe or hat _at all_ for the length of their stay.

The Winchester brother's were just about making the class of Muggle Studies inhabitable. Useless books like _Muggle Language: And How To Understand The Primitive Culture _were discarded and placed underneath the table for Dean to happily kick at whenever he got the urge, and _useful _books like _The Encyclopedia Of The World _were placed in an obsessively neat order on every table by an OCD-suffering Sam.

The second class of the day – sixth years, all Hupplepuff – had just left, and now Dean was really getting into the act of teaching, comfortable in the element of talking about every day things _civilians _and _normal people _(like him, see?) did on a day to day basis. It was almost cute, watching how these kids had no clue what a microwave was – but considering their magic whatsimajig fried anything electric in a thirty mile radius, it wasn't quite so surprising. And he felt like he was doing mankind a favour by teaching them humans were resourceful little critters that made up for having no fancy little wooden stick to wave about and do fancy things with.

Sam, not having to do anything until later in the afternoon for his own class (for this week anyway), had taken it upon himself to _supervise _the first two lessons, just to make sure Dean was doing what he's supposed to be doing, and was cleaning up the class for the third time that day right before he'd leave Dean to his third lesson.

"And Dean," The six foot four was lecturing, "Don't even _think _about trying that whole Impala thing again when I leave. _Teach _these kids proper things, like household maintenance, just like you did with the Hupplepuffs."

"The _who puffs?_"

"The _Hupplepuffs._" Sam huffed. "The _yellow guys_, damn it Dean, _learn _the name of the houses."

"No way, dude." Dean snapped back, tired of this argument already (it was the third time! The _third time!_). "Red guys are lions, green guys are snakes, blue guys are bird brains and yellow guys are freakin' _badgers_. That's all I need to _know_. What's the point of learning the name if it doesn't help _at all_?"

Before Sam could reply with the obvious claim of _knowledge is power _in his best imitation of a damn _woman_, the door opened up, and Dean slapped on a bright face for the new swarm of kids that would come walking through all bright eyed and eager to learn, learn, _learn!_

Okay, so maybe he hadn't yet gotten used to all this _school _thing. One can't exactly blame him – he'd been disgustingly happy when he'd finally done away with his own.

Strangely enough though, the only people that entered the class were two, lanky, red haired, boys, both slinking in with these far too bright smiles on their face. Smiles that reminded Sam of a Dean who was in the middle of pulling a prank, and smiles that reminded _Dean _of a Sam in a _really _good mood because he had a _really _good reason to drag Dean to do _research. _Or, heaven forbid, watch a _documentary _with him.

"Good..."

"... Morning." The twins (and man were they identical) chirped together, one speaking a word and the other filling the blank. It was kind of disconcerting watching this – but also kinda cool.

"Uh, hi." Dean offered lamely, paranoia getting the better of him. Sam was a lot more prepared, and insisted on shaking both their hands with this _I'm absolutely pleasured to meet you and let's be best friends for ever _smile on his face.

"Hi!" The younger Winchester said. "Good morning to you too! I'm Sam Winchester, and this is my brother Dean – he'll be teaching you Muggle Studies for this week."

"That's great to hear." One twin spoke up.

"Absolutely great." The other agreed.

"I'm Fred-"

"-And I'm George."

"Weasley." They both ended simultaneously.

Dean nodded slowly. "Ahuh. That's.. Uuh... Great. So, twins, huh?" Damn it, why couldn't they be _girls_? Even though – you know – that would be kinda paedophilia, as well as they'd be _jail-bait_, and even Dean had an age limit of what was and what wasn't fair game. "What year would you be? And... Uuh, _house_, I guess." Not that Dean even cared, but Sam liked that kind of politeness, and damn if he wasn't a sucker for the bright smile he'd get whenever he made an effort to be polite. Yup, there it was, aaaw, those dimples would be the death of him. Again.

"Fifth year, sirs-"

"-And brave and mighty Gryffindors-"

"-At your service."

The Winchester brothers glanced at each other, finding the back and forth conversation amusing at the very least.

"So how can I help you boys, then?" Dean carried on, crossing his arms across his chest as he leaned back on his desk. "I've got third years coming in in a few minutes."

"Oh no," One of the twins began, the one with a G knitted into his sweater. "We're not here to trouble you or anything."

"Oh no," The other agreed. Strangely enough, this one had introduced himself as George, even though his twin was wearing the sweater with the G initial. "We just wanted to have you both know we're absolutely _delighted _to have you here at Hogwarts."

Eyebrows raised, Dean and Sam exchanged another look. "Is that so?" Sam asked distractedly, eyeing as Dean carefully fingered the breast pocket of his leather jacket – no doubt the trigger-happy older brother had a knife or two stowed away in there.

"Yup!" One twin perked up, rolling on the balls of his feet.

"It's absolutely _great _-"

"- To know _hunters_ -"

Sam and Dean straightened up, alarmed, about to speak before cleanly being interrupted by the continuing back and forth dialogue going on between the twins.

"- Are _among _us - "

"- Keeping us _safe_."

"We... Don't know what you're talking about." The taller Winchester replied, ever the diplomat. "We've never hunted before, although our dad used to hunt game every now and then with a few friends."

Dean laughed, playing on the story Sam was weaving. "Oh yeah, but after that first time you saw a deer's head and fainted like a little girl he kept it quiet." The glare he got in reply was _so _worth it.

The twins, Fred and George, as they said, had a completely sinister tint to their foxy smile, an elbow locked with each other, both rocking back and forth on the balls of their feet as they simply watched the Winchester's. Dean fought the urge to say _Christo_, just in case they were demons or something, and he could see Sam's intelligent eyes thinking the exact same thought.

One of the twins suddenly flourished a thick envelope, and calmly offered it to Sam, who took it suspiciously and eyed the envelope before opening it and taking out the thick stash of papers inside. Dean knew the twins were watching _both _of them, keeping note of their expression and body language, and damn if it wasn't surprising to have two damn kids eyeing them down like a pair of vultures.

"Where... Did you get all this?" Sam finally spoke, leafing through the papers, voice low and controlled.

The twins merely beamed.

"We-"

"-Have-"

"-Our-"

"-Sources."

"_And_?" Sam shot back immediately, finally passing on the papers to Dean.

Immediately, Dean looked through the aged parchments, eyes widening slightly at the mugshot of when he'd been imprisoned stapled to the first paper, the next paper holding another of his brother. The whole thing was a direct copy of the FBI Case File on them, from a list of every criminal act they'd 'committed', along with a psyche evaluation (he wasn't surprised to see 'mentally unstable' so clearly written, and even less to see Sam's say 'obviously brainwashed, poor boy') and personal notes from Henrickson – including the fact it clear as day said _DECEASED _on every single damn one of them. Twice. For Dean. Only once for Sam since he'd only technically died in the big explosion at the sheriff's station – the one where Lilith decided to blow up and kill Henrickson only moments after the boys had left.

"Well," Fred said, trading a professionally cool look with his brother. "We're simply curious, really. Isn't that right, George?"

"Indeed, very curious, Fred." George answered. "See here, we happen to very much like Hogwarts, and there's the matter of our family being here."

"And Ron, George."

"Yes, and Ron, of course."

"And we just want to make sure there won't be any... _Further problems_, so to speak, coming from your end, gentlemen." Fred finished up.

Dean's eyebrow rose up once more, and he looked at Sam imploringly – a silent conversation of their own passing through them in matters of second.

"I think you've already got enough problems here, Fred." The elder Winchester joked calmly.

"And we're not one of them, believe me, George." The younger Winchester emphatically beseeched.

"In fact," Dean began.

"We think," Sam followed.

"That we can probably help."

"If anything _does _happen, that is."

The twins looked sideways at each other, eyebrows raised, an amused and clearly surprised look passing between the pair, then they turned grinning faces onto the two 'professors'.

"Oh I do like these two, George." Fred said, leaning into his brothers shoulder for a moment, as if whispering a secret between them. "Style, flair, _and _humour. It's a winning combination."

Dean grinned at that, jerking his head at Sam as he spoke. "Can't say _he's _got any of that – it's mostly all me, y'know?"

George pushed into his brothers shoulder himself, just as Sam scowled heavily at Dean. "I'd say that one's a Gryffindor, all right. But what about Mr. Half Giant?"

Spluttering, Sam stuck his hands on his hips, scowling at all _three _of the occupants in the room. "I'm _not _a Half Giant, Professor Hagrid is a _skyscraper _compared to me. I'm just a bit _tall_."

"Wait, wait, hold up." The twins turned their attention to the shorter of the professors. "Gryff-whatever are the lion guys, right?"

The twins nodded slowly, amusement flaring on their faces.

"The green guys, the bird guys, their the ones that are all intelligent and geeky and stuff, aren't they?"

Another nod.

"Yup, there's your answer. Sammy here's a bird brain. Through and through. Although if that's Sam I'm not sure where Cas would fit... And the lion guys are the brave ones right? Awesome, here that Sammy? I'm _brave_. And _chivalrous_. No wonder why the ladies love me."

"Yeah, great, you're the red tie guys, how fascinating."

The brotherly banter would have continued if the door didn't suddenly open up to admit two Slytherin girls peeking their head through. The twins took it upon themselves that the meeting was over, and unhooking their elbows from each other, gave a low bow with a dramatic flourish.

"Well, Professor Dean-"

"-And Professor Sammy-"

"-We must bid you-"

"-Adieu."

"Though we promise-"

"-To see you-"

"-Soon-"

"-For many-"

"-Reasons."

They paused at the door dramatically, looking back at the teachers with a deadly smirk (and Sam was feeling very murderous for already having the dreaded nickname in the hands of students). And as one, the twins left a parting sentence, speaking together like a bad pantomime.

"_Speramus discere multa de daemonibus."_

* * *

><p><em>"We hope to learn much about demons."<em>

**Hope you enjoyed it! Please leave a review so I'll know if there's anything you want to see. Till next time! /gushes all over**


	7. Ebony and Ivory

**PROFESSORS WINCHESTER**

**Summary: **When Hogwarts received two new professors from the fated land of America, everybody was curious. But no one was more curious then one Harry Potter. A series of stories about Dean and Sam Winchester as professors at Hogwarts.

**AN: **Hogsmeade! Boggarts! _Demons_ (though not how you're expecting it)! I present to you more then 10K of pure _plot_, that will inevitably lead to the end of this fantastic ride of a story. That's right guys, we've officially entered the End Game, three more chapters left, and as a shout-out to the first episode of season 7 (_oh my god guyssssss!_) Supernatural, I'm giving you all this. A quote was taken from Supernatural Season 4 Episode 16, I'm pretty sure it's obvious without pointing it out. Many of Hermione's research is from wiki and other sources, titles of books are made up, and who can point out something Hermione says that was once said by _Dean_? -grins-

Also. The Harry Potter Wikia is _wonderful_. That is all.

* * *

><p><strong>- SEVEN -<strong>

**Ebony and Ivory,**

_(live together in perfect harmony.)_

Deep in the bowels of the library, Draco and co. were spying on two professors. A silencing charm had been spread on the group of three so they could converse heavily with each other without both the professors and the librarian catching them out, and a large bookshelf was hiding them from view – keeping them _incognito _from their targets.

The Winchester's would never know they were there.

The three Slytherins – Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle – were huddling together and watching through the small gap in between _Oslo Tribunals: A Theory On Durmstrang _and _Ye Old Arts Of Myth And Lore, _eyes focused on the adult figures of the two male brothers, both seated on a round table with books scattered everywhere. Classes had ended for two days ago for the Christmas break, what remained of the student body was doing whatever they felt they needed, be it finishing off homework in their Common Room or playing about in the snow. The three were here _primarily _to spy on the Winchester's, Draco hoping to get _something _he could blackmail them for – _especially _that damn blubbering fool of the older Winchester – before he had to leave for home.

"Didn't take _you _for a peeping tom. Malfoy." A prim voice suddenly spoke up behind them.

"Oh hush, _Granger_." Draco sneered, keeping his attention completely on the two men. "Go run along and be a muggle somewhere."

"How come you're still here, Malfoy?" The girl continued though, high voice grating on the blonde's nerves. "It's _Christmas_, aren't you going to visit mummy and daddy?"

Snickers followed, sounding very much like Weasley and Potter, causing Draco to twirl around, nostrils flaring and anger causing his teeth to flash.

"_What _don't you understand about _hush_?" He snarled, taking a moment to feel utter satisfaction at the surprised expressions on the three Gryffindors faces. "Can't you see we're _busy _here? Go _run along _and _leave us!_"

Goyle shushed him, jabbing a finger in the general direction of the unsuspecting Winchester's, reminding Draco to keep his voice down – because even if they were shrouded by a silencing charm, the novelty of being a spy was all about _stealth. _They weren't just staying quiet because they were pretending to be Aurors on a highly dangerous mission. Not at all, of course not.

The Granger frowned, holding up a hand to interrupt Potter and Weasley from opening their mouths. It was times like this that had Draco scoffing at the idea that the 'Golden Trio' were led by Potter – the two males were obviously following the lead of the muggle-born female. She was ruling the two with a cunning shadow-play worthy of Slytherin status – it really was too bad she was a _mudblood_.

Just as he thought so, the muggle-born witch stepped into their space, a ripple of magic announcing her participation of the silencing charm. She frowned as she recognised the spell, completely ignoring Draco's fierce scowl as all three of his enemies stood in their personal space. Leaning her body over Crabbe's shoulder had her peeking through the small gap all three Slytherin's were using, and it only took her a moment to spot the only two men in the deserted part of the library holding information on myths and lores.

Standing back up properly, she shouldered Crabbe out of the way, standing next to Draco, and eyed him consiprationally, the two male Gryffindor's taking their turn to peek over her to see what it was they were spying on.

"What is it, Granger?" Draco demanded, refusing to admit being unnerved by the stink eye trained on him.

"Oh no," Hermione enthused, waving a dainty hand dismissively. "I'm just surprised, that's all. Although I suppose I really shouldn't have been."

Dread niggling at the back of his mind, Draco scowled. "Surprised about_ what_, mudblood?"

"Hey-"

"-Hush, Ron." The witch's lips curled as she looked Draco up and down, appraising him for a moment. "Tell you what, Malfoy. Join the club."

"Hermione! What are you _doing_?" The Potter demanded, surprise filtering through. "You're not _really _thinking of working with him, right?"

"Yeah, Hermione," The Weasley blubbered. "And even if you are, Fred and George would no way allow it!"

Fred and George? The Weasley twins? Draco's scowl turned to a contemplative frown, eyeing the Granger right back. "What... Club do you speak off, Granger...?"

Hermione waved a dainty and again, seemingly dismissive of his wariness. "It's a small group of us working together to figure out those two professor's. We tried asking professor Dumbledore when they first came, but he wouldn't say much. The twins used their sources to get a lot of information – but none of it makes any sense. And I'm guessing _you _have some of your own information, but not enough to make any consistent conclusion of. So I'm proposing you work with us and the twins, and we all share our information together."

Interesting, the Malfoy couldn't deny the _allure _such an offer presented. He was curious about what sort of information the twins had gotten, as well as what sort of sources they _had_ – and not all too surprised about the bust with the headmaster. Father had tried demanding information on the two new professor's right from the start, but the old coot had gone round and round in circles to the point Father had abandoned all hope. And Draco _did _have his own information – and just like the Granger had said, none of it really fit.

"Very well, Granger. But first I want to see both of your informations, _then _I'll give up mine."

Weasley and Potter glowered childishly at him, but Draco was too busy keeping his attention on the surprising new side of Granger. Really, he _shouldn't _have been surprised – Ravenclaws and Gryffindors didn't mix for a very good reason, in both marriage and circles; they tended to either give birth to dangerous Slytherins or bring about a new world order. The last thing _anybody _needed was the bravery of Gryffindor being wielded with an intelligence of Ravenclaw. Or, in other words, the last thing _anybody _needed was Hermione Granger.

"Alright," Hermione replied airily, sticking her hand out to him. Draco stared down at the female's hand suspiciously, wondering what exactly she wanted him to do with it. Seconds passed with the Malfoy trying to figure out what on earth the muggle-born witch was getting at, then Granger suddenly huffed and took back her hand, shaking her head and hair primly in exxageration.

"Honestly, Malfoy!" She lectured, voice returning to the grating decibel he was used too. "Don't you pay _any _attention to Muggle Studies? When someone sticks their hand out at you, you _shake _it! It was one of the first lessons Professor Samuel taught us!"

"Yes, well," Draco sneered, turning back to eye the mentioned teacher. "I was a tad bit busy trying to hex him without getting caught. He's even worse with his _lectures _then the oaf next to him is."

Potter snorted, apparently having accepted the fact they'd be working together as _partners _rather then _enemies_. "You just don't like Professor Dean because he always keeps an eye on you."

"The man is _intolerable_, a foul mouthed, blubbering, completely and utterly _useless _muggle." Draco defended, bristling at the tone of voice the green eyed boy used. "How _dare _he give me weekly detention _and _force him to deal with him and his _humanisation _bull. I do not _need _to be made _normal _by _muggle definitions_!"

"But you've learnt so _much_, Malfoy," Weasley crooned, pursing his lips and fluttering his eyes. "Don't you ace all the pop quizzes Professor Sam gives at random times? He's really impressed with you, and fawns all over you and your pretty little white head."

Subconsciously, Draco touched his hair, a little voice in his head screaming it was just a pale shade of blond and not _white_. He'd admit, if only to himself, he didn't quite have such a big problem with the taller Winchester as he did with the shorter one – the only thing that grated at him with the taller was his _babying_, the way the man _beamed _whenever someone got something right and rewarded people freely. It was the _shorter _one that would suffer the full brunt of a Malfoy's ire, Draco had made _sure _his Father had heard _much _about the one calling himself Dean Winchester.

By the time Draco and Father were done with him, the man wouldn't be able to return to his muggle _world _without feeling their wrath.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Granger mutter a spell on a piece of parchment with words hastily scribbled on. The parchment become a small little thing Muggle Studies had taught him was a _paper plane_, and flew off. No doubt it was a message meant for the Weasley twins.

"I hope you've told them to come here." Draco mentioned offhandedly, turning his attention back to the adult pair.

"Oh yes," The Granger answered honestly. "They should be here in a few minutes. Until then, let me fill you in on what _we _know."

And to the witch's word, the next few minutes were filled with Granger informing them of the observations she'd made while watching the Winchester's.

"They're highly co-dependant on each other, it's why you rarely see one without the other, and I have a feeling they lost both parents in less then favourable ways. They don't mention their mother, _at all_, but whenever they speak of their father, it's always in the past tense, like _'imagine what dad would say if he saw this'_ and _'remember what dad taught us'_. Both are trained like army members – the muggle police force, _Malfoy_ – they're quick to bring out one of the hundreds of weapons they have hiding on their person at all times the moment something threatens them. And they're both really educated in the strangest of things – Professor Samuel mentioned once he was going to become a lawyer, meaning he's was _really _good at school, and both know Latin like they know English."

Draco frowned, mind replaying the last bit of information. "I'm guessing muggles don't usually learn Latin." He noted dryly.

"No," Granger replied, giving him a _duh_ look. "Only people specifically learning that sort of profession – like translating old books and things – even bother with it, and even then they don't learn it enough to instantly know what every spell or name we have means without a moment's pause."

"Very well, carry on."

"Well..." Here, Granger hesitated, piquing interest in the listening Slytherins (Crabbe and Goyle were carefully paying attention to it all). "They just... Seem to know _everything _that has to do with the Dark Arts, you know?"

Indeed, Draco _did _know – it was one of the very reasons why Father wanted to know everything about them, and how muggles came to have such intense knowledge of anything concerning the Dark Arts.

"From magical creatures, to evil symbols, to black magic – they know it all. And _no _muggle should know _that _much about it like they do."

Suddenly, the silencing charm rippled, causing everyone to shiver as two new students joined the fray. The Weasley twins towered over the six third years, bright red hair parted at opposite sides from each other.

"Well lookey here, Fred. I can't believe my eyes."

"Is it true? Have Gryffindors and Slytherins come together for the greater good?"

"Perhaps there's hope for us all yet."

The group, as one, scooted over, making space for the gangly limbs of the twins as the two new Weasley's sat down among the – now eight – group. Draco eyed them distastefully, but made sure to keep it _low _as to not offend the twins, he really didn't want to inspire them to play one of their nasty tricks on him again after the first year.

"I've just finished filling Draco on the things I've observed of the professor's." Huh, since when did Granger decide to speak of him on first name basis? "You have the papers, don't you? Give it to him."

"Aye aye, ma'am." One twin saluted, digging through his robes. A thick envelope came out, stuffed to the brim with papers, and was passed between the group till it reached Draco's piano hands.

Ten minutes passed by in relative silence as Draco perused the files, keen, decisive, Slytherin eyes ripping apart the information, eyebrows dipping further in until he was outright scowling as he read through the last paper. Thank god he'd actually paid attention to Muggle Studies – knowing you'd be called out sooner or later made one pay attention – because otherwise, he'd never would've understood half of the muggle phrases and terms. As it was, none of it made _sense_, all it did was add a sense of urgency to their self-appointed mission, as well as making Draco once more question the senility of the damn headmaster.

"Has Dumbledore finally lost his _bonkers_?" The Malfoy finally hissed, leafing through the pages again. "These Winchester's are _convicted felons_, they're bloody well worse then _Voldermort_."

Crabbe, Goyle and Weasley (the younger one, mind you) all winced at the name of the Dark Lord, Hermione rolling her eyes heavenwards at their reaction. Potter nodded solemnly, and Draco was _surprised _that the idiot didn't immediately insult him for _daring _to say anything less then favourable of the old coot.

"It's what we thought as well, at least Voldermort makes a bit of sense with wanting to make purge the magical community of anyone that isn't a pureblood – he's just patriotic like that, I guess. These guys, though, from what those files say, pretty much go after anything and everything they think is magical, and end up hurting normal, unsuspecting, people."

"Technically, they go after anything and everything they think is _supernatural_." One of the twins corrected, wagging a finger at Potter. Right then, Draco decided to just name them Left and Right, just to save his brain the headache of keeping track of who was who (not that he could, or ever had the ability too).

"And we have a feeling most of the things they've done in really _is _supernatural. You know how nothing with bad intent can enter Hogwarts." Left said, nodding his head knowingly.

"No," Hermione agreed, taking back the papers from Draco. "But the three years we've been here have shown that maybe Hogwarts just doesn't care. Remember the troll? Professor Quirrel? The basilisk?"

The youngest Weasley shuddered, Crabbe and Goyle following suit. "How _can _we?"

"Exactly." Granger continued. "Maybe there's a method of tricking the castle? At least until you actually enter through those front doors. From those FBI files, half the things they claim to hunt is... Inconceivable. Like _demons_? _Really?_"

Draco watched as the twins frowned, both of them tapping a finger to their chin.

"Well," One of them spoke up. "Thing is, they really don't seem mental, do they? _Sure_, Good ol' Hermione here's thrown about lots of fancy words and psychoanalysis mumbo jumbo that can all be translated simply as _issues_, but they're not raving mad, they don't_ act_ raving mad. They're pretty cool, if I say so myself."

"Yeah," The other piped up. "Professor Sammy's become real friends with practically everyone, staff and students alike. And Professor Dean's a jolly good fellah – and good with pranks, too."

Granger frowned as the youngest Weasley nodded and seemed pleased with his brothers, all the while Potter seemed _neutral _on the issue. Draco eyed them all, taking note of what he could see, observing their body language as well as words and absorbing the new information. With a deep, put upon sigh, he rummaged through his own robes, taking out his own stack of papers and held it out to whoever would take it.

Hermione snatched it of his hands.

"Let's see, let's see," She hummed, eyes skimming over the new information. Potter and Weasley leaned into her, reading over their shoulder, while the twins turned their attention to Draco.

"Right mate, what're those two Americans doing over there?"

A look back through the peep hole in between two books showed the professor's still lounging round the desk, the older Winchester with his feet kicked up on another chair while the younger studiously went through a huge, dusty, book.

"They've been sitting there for the past three hours, going through those bloody books." Draco spat out, irritation at suffering from aching knees and a numb behind bleeding through. "From all that I've gathered, they've been coming on and off in this section only, going through books pertaining to Norse mythology in particular."

"Why in bloody hell would they bother with Norse mythology?" Ron asked, glancing up once before returning back to the papers.

"If I _knew _that then it'd be on those papers, Weasley." The blonde Slytherin replied dryly. "All I've heard from the two fools is something about resurrecting _Gabriel_, whoever or whatever that may be."

Hermione gasped, thrusting the papers over to listening twins and leaning forward towards Draco. "_Resurrecting_?" She breathed out, a look of incredulous awe flashing across her face. "That's _impossible_, it's never been done before – never even _thought _of before – how...?"

"But Hermione," Harry piped up, tapping the only girl in the group on her shoulder. "Voldermort," Cue wince. "Apparently died when he murdered my parents – but he's come back _twice _now, first on Professor Quirrel and then through Tom Riddle. Maybe there _is _a method of coming back from the dead, but it's really dark magic, so not talked about or something."

"But... But then _why _would they be attempting it? To bring back this _Gabriel _person? No matter how close or whatever other relationship one has, it's all about the natural _order _of things: what's dead should _stay _dead." She argued back.

"It all goes back to what sort of intentions the two have, doesn't it?" One of the twins finally spoke up, serious as they read through the final page of Draco's intel. "I think we all agree that they're not Death Eaters though, right?" Nods passed around, all certain in it thanks to the Winchester's lack of knowledge to do with _anything _concerning the Magical Community of Britain. "But maybe they're just rogues, or less then favourable people all the way from America. Blimey, we can't even be certain they're name is _Winchester_ after this."

Rightfully so, since Draco's information was on two, non-related, people by the name of Dean Smith and Sam Wesson – both employee's of an American company going by the name of Sandover Corp. To Draco's greatest surprise (past the fact the so called 'brothers' weren't even related, nor shared the same surname) Dean Smith was the Director of Sales and Marketing while Sam Wesson was written down as _Tech Support_. Draco didn't even _need _to know muggle terminology to know that was _far _lower in rank (and consequently power) then a Director.

"Maybe we should take all this and show it to Professor Dumbledore, guys." Ron spoke up, nervously fidgeting in his seat. "Maybe they're _supposed _to be Winchester's, but somehow intercepted them and came here in their place."

Draco, unable to miss the opportunity, snidely replied, "Didn't think you knew such a big word as _intercept_, Weasley." getting a "Yeah well, I didn't think you were good at anything but being a _git_, Malfoy." in reply.

"I reckon the old man will just twinkle his eyes at us and shoo us off, telling us '_not to worry and trust in fate'_." Crabbe, Goyle and Potter snickered at the rather superb imitation of Dumbledore the twin Left gave. "If we include _any _adult, our best bet would probably be your father, Malfoy. Didn't he try and get Dumbledore's explanation for two muggles _teaching _at Hogwarts back in the start of the year?"

Surprised by the twins knowledge, Draco confirmed it with a nod. "Yes, he did, but Father got much the same reply as we'd probably get if we were to go to Dumbledore."

Everyone nodded solemnly, going quiet for a moment to think things through, each of them pushing aside books to create a small gap so they could all spy on the so-called Winchesters.

"What _else _did they mention, Draco?" Hermione whispered, somehow ending up crouched next to Draco and Potter. "Besides the resurrecting thing."

Replaying the last three hours of spying, Draco slowly went through everything he'd considered odd and remembered – despite not understanding a damn thing. "They spoke of laying more of something called a _Devil's Trap _around the school, trying to get a blueprint of the castle, something called the_ Key of Solomon_, and the whole Gabriel thing. They mentioned a couple of other names, professor Lupin amongst them, and that _Castiel_ guy that somehow finds a way to apparate inside Hogwarts grounds and pops up at the strangest times – did anyone figure that out, by the way?"

Hermione shook her head, anger and exasperation colouring her words as she spoke. "_No_, none of the professor's have any idea about _who _he even _is_, let alone about how he can apparate inside and out. And the Professor's Dean and Samuel won't say anything other then him being a _friend_ from back home. You know, they haven't even mentioned _where _in America they're from – when I asked, they simply both replied everywhere and anywhere. As if that's a good answer."

Draco nodded distractedly, returning back to his retelling of what he'd overhead. "Right, how helpful." Hermione sneered at his sarcastic comment, but kept quiet as he continued on with the information. "_Any-who_, they mentioned coming along with us to Hogsmeade to try and get something called a _cell reception_ – I say, they _must _be speaking in code – and wondering about what they'd find there. Samuel seemed unnecessarily obsessive about finding a _library_ of all things, while the big oaf of his _brother_ only cares about whether the village would have a _bar _or not. I'm presuming he means a pub by the need for alcoholic beverages."

The twins snickered, but Draco paid them no mind, ignoring Hermione's frown at his disrespect for not terming them as professors.

"Then, as if both weren't off their rockets enough already, they start talking about _Lucifer_ – and how to _stop him_, as well as other names and how much disdain they hold for them, and something about being an angel-meat-suit to a _Mikey _and _Lucy –_ do note that this _Lucy _happens to be the only _female _the 'Winchesters' have made _any _mention off since they've arrived here. I'm sorry, but I find it highly improbable that of all the names they mention, only one of them is female."

Hermione looked thoughtful of that, and even Potter looked confused as if he thought maybe he was thinking the same thing as Hermione but wasn't quite sure.

"Hermione, isn't Lucifer the name of the devil?" He spoke slowly, as if hoping he would be wrong. "And Gabriel, isn't that the name of one of the archangels...?"

"Yes, it is," Hermione replied, destroying any chance of Harry being wrong with the answer. "And if I'm correct, then I think _Lucy _is actually Lucifer, and _Mikey _is actually Michael, another archangel."

"What'd you say that for, Hermione?" Ron spoke up, confused. "How'd you know Mikey and Lucy are supposed to be those guys? And _angels_? Really?"

All the rest of the group turned to wait for Hermione's reply, twins included, and she huffed slightly but continued to look thoughtful. "It fits, when you actually think about it. Castiel, the guy with the overcoat that keeps appearing every now and then, Gabriel, Lucifer and Michael. Castiel is the name of the angel of Thursday, believe it or not. So it's like an angel theme."

"But of all the things mentioned in the FBI case about their delusions, angels isn't one of them, 'Mione." Both twins spoke up.

"Yes, but those files are at least a year old, _and _they have Professor Dean written down as dead. _Twice_. How did that research come along about hunters anyway, Fred? George?"

The twins frowned, a mirror action of each other. Left was the first to speak – maybe he was Fred?

"Well, we asked Charlie to pass on the word to his friends..."

"... And got a reply just this morning." Right (George?) finished.

"It's why we think the things they've done in the FBI papers really _is _them dealing with supernatural things." Left spoke up again.

"Cuz apparently," Right continued. "The term _hunter _paired up with _supernatural _results in a whole community of muggles going around doing the same sort of thing and causing problems for the Muggle Police. Pretty much all of them in the database have been tagged as delusional – and all of them have the same delusions, basically."

"What? Delusions about demons and monsters and ghosts?" Ron asked again, face crinkling up in confusion.

"Yeah, and a few of the monsters mentioned are actually _real_, like Wendigo's, along with ghosts and spirits – although to them, ghosts and spirits are apparently evil buggers." Left answered, shrugging.

"So bits and pieces of their delusions actually have concrete evidence among us of the Wizarding Community. But then what about the whole _demons_ thing, you think it's true?" Hermione pressed, passionate in her speaking.

"When we mentioned demons to the Winchester's after the breakfast where we got the first pieces of information from, they seemed surprised. But not confused. I think me and Fred can pro'lly go round and ask them for a... _Personal, _lesson on all the things about it – blackmail them into it, you know, either teach us everything you know or we expose you to the school. Even Dumbledore won't be able to simple wave it off if every student's parents knew about these two."

The deviousness and cunning behind those words didn't surprise Draco, not as much as it'd surprised him when he'd heard it in Granger's voice. Oh no, practically _everybody _knew the Weasley twins were as cunning and manipulative as they were _brave _and _chivalrous_. Again, Draco shivered at the memory of the prank played on him in his first year. He'd simply _die _before mentioning it – the whole _incident _would go to the grave between him and the twins, forever unknown by anybody else.

"Perfect." Hermione spoke up, a note of finality in her voice. "Then you approach them and ask while at Hogsmeade. Harry, _are you sure _your uncle and aunt won't sign the permission slip?"

Perking up, Draco listened in as Potter grumbled a negative. Huh, so the boy's muggle relatives wouldn't let him go to Hogsmeade – he'd have to remember that for when they became enemies again.

"Oh for god's sake, _fine_. The rest of us will attempt to gain more clarification on all of this. We'll pretend to just be _really _curious about them – which we _are_, so it's not a lie – and see what of our information we can discard and what else we know for certain is true. Fred, George, you're in charge of finding out as much as you can about demons. I'm going to use this library to look up all the other creatures mentioned and see if they're mentioned in any of the sixth year Defence Against the Dark Arts books, especially the ones for the O.W.L.S."

"And what 'bout me, 'Mione?" The youngest Weasley asked, dread colouring his words.

"_You_ will help me with the creatures. Draco, try and find out what happened to Smith and Wesson after they put in their resignation letters to the company."

A sudden note worthy of being mentioned pinged up in Draco's head. "Well, Granger, other then that, the Winchester's also mentioned a _Zachariah_, who just so happens to be one of the higher ups of said company – as well as being one of the names mentioned with great _disdain_." _'And foul language,' _he added on mentally, appalled at the lack of speaking finesse Americans apparently held.

"Excellent," The mudblood witch (just because they were currently _partners _didn't mean Draco still had anything but contempt for her) grinned, clapping her hands together. "Find out whether the man is still in charge of the company, whether he had anything to do with Smith and Wesson, and if so, what."

Everybody got up as one then, each dusting at their robes to dislodge the accumulated dust of the library from their clothing. With a wave and foxy grin, the twins first left, dragging along with them a struggling Potter. Weasley shot a glare at Draco, following after his two brothers and best friend, and with a put upon sigh, Granger grabbed him by the sleeve and dragged him to the Dark Arts section of the library, speaking a mile a minute in a lecturing tone.

Draco sneered disdainfully after them all, spun on the spot to face Crabbe and Goyle, and disengaged the silencing charm with a swish of his wand.

They had work to do.

_A few days earlier:_

"You want me to join you?"

Professor Remus Lupin nodded, smiling amiably at the older Winchester next to him at the teacher's table. The pair were seated with the other staff in the Great Hall, eating breakfast as per usual, and Remus had decided to invite professor Dean to attend one of the practical lessons of DADA. It wasn't because he wanted to be polite, or to get to know the other – oh no, Remus had already taught alongside the older Winchester whenever the two brothers switched places for the two lessons under their name – he just wanted them _both _to be there to see one of the creatures professor Sam had been enthusiastic about seeing, figuring the older brother would want to see too.

And okay, he _was_ a _bit _curious about whether these muggles really _were _muggles or not. But that was neither here nor there.

"I know you don't have any class for today due to the seventh years taking their mid-term exams, plus today happens to be the day me and your brother will be using the Boggart in the staff's lounge to teach. I thought you might like to be present to see."

The green eyed male frowned, scooping a spoon full of pie into his mouth and chewing as he thought it over. He swallowed, frown still in place. "Can't say I've heard of a _Boggart _before – you sure about exposing it to the kids?"

So careful, it always amused Remus whenever the rash, hex first ask later, male showed signs of being a mother hen – after the first few times seeing it directed to both the students _and _professor Sam (who refused to be called Samuel), he could understand Sam's exasperation of it.

"I assure you, Dean, Boggart's are not life threatening at all – merely troublesome at the most. It will be good for the students to see how to react to one. Good for you, too."

"Yeah, Dean." Samuel piped up, sitting on the other side of Dean, long figure allowing him to look over his brother's head and wink at Remus. "It'll be good for us. Never know when we might run into one back home."

The older brother frowned some more, as if warring with himself whether to come along with them or use his free day to laze about and do nothing, but in the end gave in with a troubled sigh.

"_Fine_, I'll be there. Noon, right?"

Remus nodded, pleased with himself as he finished off his pumpkin juice, surprisingly excited about showing the two _muggles _(a term he was using lightly when it came to these two new strange friends of his) something new about his world – his life.

Noon came around quick enough though, despite Remus' excitement, which was only a blessing for the man. Soon, his large class was filled with the chitter chatter of settling third years, Sam standing by his side. Once a quick introduction to the lesson was given (and the kids all gasped in awe), Remus shuffled them all to stand in a line and led them to the staff's lounge – empty after requesting it – where professor Dean was found to be waiting for them. The students all lined up once in the room, facing the wardrobe holding the Boggart, professor Sam and Dean by their side (for today, they too were just observers), and Remus gestured for the Longbottom boy to step up first.

"Now pay attention to me, Neville." He spoke calmly, exuding a relaxing presence so the children wouldn't be afraid. "And everybody else, too. Once I open this door, the Boggart will assume your worst fear – now don't panic, take your time if you must to control yourself, and when you do, you must think with all your might of something that will make your worst fear amusing. Then, once the thought is strong in your head, flick your wand like so," A demonstration, his wand moving smoothly through the air. "And then, you say, _Riddikulus_ – which will add whatever you found amusing to the Boggart, as such, inspiring laughter, which is the _true _form to defeat a Boggart."

Neville nodded quickly, the poor boy looking nervous beyond words. Remus felt sorry for the boy, but pride in his bravery to stand there and not bow out, but was keeping most of his attention on the Winchester's. He didn't miss the way Dean seemed ready to pull any child out of whatever he perceived as dangerous, nor the way Sam threw jabs and jibes to relax his tense brother (something about a lion, a witch, and the wardrobe), all of it only making him ache for the friends of old Hogwarts had gifted him with. All of them now no more.

Without another word, he opened up the wardrobe's door, and after a symbolic pregnant pause, out came the stalking figure of Severus Snape, causing Neville to shake harder in his stand.

"Come now, Neville," Remus encouraged, amused but understanding of the boy's fear – heavens knew Severus could be a daunting man and worthy of anyone's fear. "Think of something ridiculous, something that professor Snape wouldn't be seen wearing for a million galleons. Then wave your wand like how I taught you, and say _Ridikkulus!_"

Both Winchester's were looking beyond entertained as they watched Snape sneer his dislike of the poor boy – the older relaxing fully and trying hard not to snicker into his hand. Neville tried a few times to say the word, only stuttering it out once and waving his wand without effect.

"Think harder on whatever it is you have in your mind, and then say the incantation with _meaning_, Neville." Remus pushed.

The boy waved about his wand for a few moments, _swish swish swish_, then _finally _paused, took a deep breath in, then shouted out the incantation a bit louder then necessary. And alas, Snape's robe was suddenly exchanged for a fur-lined coat, a dashingly pretty hat, and purse – and the class (and older Winchester) guffawed their way into a stupor.

The Boggart flew back into the wardrobe, and with a final slam, Remus closed the door, smiling widely in pride. "Excellent, Nevile! Simply superb! Might I ask what it was you were thinking off?"

The boy stuttered out his reply. "I-I-I was thinking of my g-g-g-gran's c-c-c-clothes, professor."

"Excellent! Now who'll go next?"

The next twenty minutes passed by in relative chaotic peace, third year kids taking their turn with the Boggart, everybody finding out about each other's worst fears and teasing each other good naturedly. Remus made sure to sidestep in front of Harry when the boy stood forward to take his turn, forgetting for a moment that the Boggart would take on his _own _worst fear – chuckling in careful relief when the children mistook it for a crystal ball and he was able to make a quip about the Astrology class many of them would take the following year. He was worried the boy's worst fear would scare the Merlin out of everyone, especially if it was of the Dark Lord as he feared – a perfectly understandable fear as well, considering the evil man had taken away the boy's parents.

To his surprise (and gratefulness), Hermione – that clever girl – piped up asking what the Winchester's feared most. Really, he _knew _that girl was just as curious about the two muggles being in Hogwarts as Remus (and everybody else) was, so he truly shouldn't have been surprised by the far too sweet and innocent question coming from her. However, seeing the opportunity for what it was (and my, did he have James and Sirius – a pang of old pain throbbed through his heart – to thank for that), Remus took it without a seconds pause with both hands and _yanked_.

"Yes," He said, sharing a quick meaningful look with Granger. "I suppose we're all curious. And since we all know of _my _embarrassing trauma with Astrology, why don't you both face a Boggart yourself?"

The Winchester's reacted in different ways, Dean becoming more relaxed as he leaned up against a table without a care in the world, Sam shifting his weight to another foot like a petulant child being told to explain why he stole the cookie from the jar. Before either of them could reply though, all the students converged together to throw encouragements, begging them to take on the Boggart behind the wardrobe, making the brothers look uncomfortably at each other.

To Remus' undying surprise, it was Sam that stretched up to his full height, shrugging good naturedly and grinning at his brother as he stood up to where all the students did when facing the Boggart.

"Can't hurt, I guess," The younger Winchester said, patting his waist down, searching for something. Curious, Remus and the students watched as Dean glared suspiciously while his brother took out a long, thin, dark red wand from his robe, holding it awkwardly in his hand.

"I... Was not aware you had a wand, Professor Sam," Remus spoke truthfully, surprised to see it. The mere existence of the wand in Sam's hand meant he _wasn't _a muggle, meant he had _magic _in his blood to warrant having the wand. The thought of such made him turn a questioning gaze to Dean, who rolled his eyes and shrugged with irritation.

"Mine's in the room, gathering dust. It's not even good enough to _stab _someone with, dammit."

"I... See..." The wizard lamely replied, walking to the wardrobe and putting his hand on the handle. "Well, either way, are you ready Sam?"

The younger brother nodded, legs apart, shoulders squared, wand held like a knife in his hand. Amused to no ends by the battle-ready stance, Remus mouthed _one, two, three_, then opened up the door with flourish.

The Boggart came out, still in the form of a mummy from Parvati Patil's turn, paused as he took in Sam, then seemed to _hesitate_. The form fuzzed around the edges for a bit, became distorted, stopped, then once more _hesitated. _Then, as if giving up on the previous notion of whatever it'd been trying to shift too, the Boggart simply turned into the figure of something _everyone _knew.

A clown.

Remus watched entranced as Sam Winchester tensed, a fleeting look of _childish fear _crossing over his face then turning to strong concentration. The wand, held in a strong grip, came up, _swished_, and Sam gave the incantation "_Riddikulus!_" with force, and the clown lost all colours and became simply a bald headed man with a large beer belly and stubble.

Dean roared with laughter, falling of the coach backwards and rolling on the floor with tears streaming down his face. The students looked at each other, uncertain of what they'd just witnessed, then a small snicker broke out, then another, evolving into good natured ribbing at Sam's expense.

The younger Winchester looked immensely pleased with himself, trading looks between his wand and the Boggart – then laughed delightedly and watched as the Boggart throw itself back in the wardrobe where Remus closed it once more.

It was Dean that explained Sam's fear when the older Winchester could _breathe_, going on about how _Sammy was afraid of clowns ever since meeting one while they accidentally passed a circus_, igniting another round of laughter from the kids and Sam gaining a pat on the back from a Ron Weasley who understood the fear of things others considered childish (his arachnophobia _had _garnered pretty much the same reaction).

"But then why did it hesitate?" Hermione mused loudly. "It looked as if it tried to shift into something but didn't know _how _too."

Sam ran a hand through his hair, looking thoughtful himself, then shrugged sadly. "I think my actual worst fear is failure. Failing anything and everything. There's not really a way it _could _shift into that, so it probably just decided to run with the clown thing." A shudder, igniting new rounds of laughter.

Then, as one, silence fell, and everyone's attention went to Dean. Something like a viciously satisfied look passed Sam's face, earning a dirty glare from Dean that Remus (and Hermione, he suspected) did not miss. But the older Winchester stood his ground, fiercely made it known through body language he wasn't afraid, and stalked like an agitated panther to the front of the room, stealing Sam's wand right out of his hand.

Remus was about to speak up about how one couldn't use another wand, about how it wasn't possible, but let it go when Sam merely shrugged at him with a fond sort of exasperation – all the while keeping his suddenly hawk like eyes on his older brother. Something was going on between the brothers – something that looked like intense curiosity from the younger, as if he wanted to _know _what his big brother's worst fear was, and something like forced reluctance from the older Winchester, as if every nerve in his body screamed against his little brother knowing his fears.

But Dean had ineffectively been pushed up against a corner with no exit in sight, and Remus had long since learnt that the man, when affronted with such a situation, bulldozed right through whatever it was stopping him rather then backing down.

Legs locked, shoulders tense, wand held like a much loved dagger, Dean stood in front of the wardrobe and nodded for Remus to open up the door. With another _one, two, three_, Remus let the door fly open, and unlike with Sam, the Boggart flew out of the dark recess of the wardrobe without a seconds pause, landing in front of Dean.

Lips curled into a long, slow, smile, cruel and sadistic in nature, the body of a middle-aged, lean man with a controlled beard and a almost sad expressive eyes stretched out in front of them, eyes latching onto the older Winchester with a pleased look.

"_I'm in heaven..." _The man sang, eyes flashing white as he spoke, voice a noticeable drawl. _"And my heart beats so... That I can hardly speak..."_

Remus watched, transfixed, as the elder Winchester froze, body tensing in a manner completely different from his previous ready-to-face-anything expression. The younger brother, Sam, lurched forward, shock and pain warring on his face to the point it was _painful _to look at, and all the students collectively took a step back, huddling into each other, feeling the air turn _dark _with something _evil_ and _cruel_.

"_Aaah, Dean, Dean, Dean..." _The figure drawled, tutting while shaking his head sadly. _"Didn't I tell you, my little student? I'll always be waiting for you, down below, back home. I'll... Be... Waiting..."_

A sudden cry snapped everyone out of their trance just in time to see Sam shoulder his brother out of the way, plucking his own wand from his brother's suddenly lax hold. Standing in front of the chilling figure, the Boggart didn't change, instead tilting it's head like an amused bird, studying Sam. The long, dangerous smile became a sad pout.

"_Oh Sammy, sweet, misguided Sammy. So afraid for your brother, but helpless to do anything."_

The man opened his mouth to continue, by Dean finally grabbed the wand again from Sam, aimed it at the white eyed man, and shouted a horse _"Riddikulus!"_. The figure paused for a moment, then the eyes flashed from white, to normal pupils, then to _pink_, and the spell hanging on everyone was suddenly broken, gaining startled laughter from the students and a hiccuped laugh from Sam.

Dean grinned as he eyed the pink eyes staring back at him, then laughed strong and hard in the man's face – but instead of the Boggart rushing to hide back in the wardrobe, the eyes merely flashed to white, giving a chilling smile as it took slow steps backwards, moving his head in a way reminiscent of how his opening liner of song sounded, closing his eyes as if in bliss.

"_I'm in heaven... And my heart beats so... That I can hardly speak..."_

Then he was gone.

. . .

Remus, later on, held Harry back when the other students filed their way out of the staff's lounge, ushering the Winchester's to the couch away from the direct area surrounding the wardrobe.

"Now Harry, I'm sure you're curious as to why I held you back." He spoke, smiling reassuringly at James and Lily's child. The boy nodded, carefully, as if unsure whether he had done wrong or not. Many of the children had been slightly unnerved after the older Winchester's Boggart showed his worst fear – not many understood it, Merlin, Remus barely did himself, but it had been frightfully clear that whoever that man was, he was an _extremely _sour note among the Winchester's past. Pushing the thoughts out of his head, Remus turned his attention back to Harry, ushering him forward to the wardrobe.

"I was afraid the Boggart would turn itself into the Dark Lord," Remus spoke honestly, hands supportively on the teen's shoulder. "Didn't want to scare the other children – but, now that we're alone, you can have your go."

"But professor," Harry replied, looking up at the much taller man. "What about..." Uneasily, the Boy Who Lived gave a quick glance to the Winchester's. "They barely knew who Voldermort was until we told them."

Remus paused, thinking it through. Sure, the Winchesters knew much about things muggles shouldn't know, but they lacked much knowledge of other things – like dragons, and hippogriffs, and the Dark Lord. He was about to agree with Harry that maybe it wouldn't be so wise to do the lesson in front of them when a snarl interrupted them both.

"-_There's nothing wrong with fearing Alastair, Dean!_"

"_Be quiet, Sam!_"

Sam's head whipped towards them, a sheepish look crossing his face at the startled look on Remus' and Harry's face. "S-Sorry, professor. Got a bit carried away. Um, you don't have to worry about us being afraid of Voldermort – trust me, we've faced far worse then a single man with power issues." he said, smiling slightly in what looked more like a grimace then anything else.

Harry stared up at Remus, who shrugged uncomfortably, the snatches of overheard words replaying themselves over and over in his head. Pushing it aside, Remus manoeuvred Harry to stand properly in front of the wardrobe, then moved towards it to stand next to the door, ready to teach his best friend's son how to defend himself.

Somehow, he ended up teaching Harry more then just about Boggarts.

Should've known the boy feared fear itself.

. . .

_Hogsmeade:_

Dean was staring down at the little wooden stick in his hand, moving it side to side, analysing it, trying to see what made it so special. He had Sam's stick (and man, did that sound wrong) in another hand, moving it sideways as well, comparing the two.

God, the whole _situation_ sounded wrong.

"Hey Sam," The younger Winchester turned to look at him, warily. Holding up the two wands, Dean grinned. "Mine's bigger then yours."

The reaction was everything he wanted – a good ol' fashioned Bitch Face, full power, aimed right at him – and something inside Dean relaxed at the sight of it. Thank fuck, it meant finally, _finally_, the two were over the _thing _that happened back in the last DADA class, forever to be buried and never talked about again, never acknowledged. Dean was perfectly okay with that, but Sam, oh _Sam_, he'd been trying _extra _hard to get a chick flick moment engaged ever since the _incident_ (as he'd named it in his head), wearing Dean down faster then the apocalypse ever could.

But now they were in Hogsmeade, which turned out to _literally_ be a village, trailing after kids out of their uniforms and trying not to look so completely out of place. Well, only Sam was actually trying – the Sasquatch kept complaining about how their clothing didn't fit in with the _country_ let alone a wizard/witch village. He would've kept complaining too if it wasn't for that Granger girl (Her-mai-nii?) assuring him he looked fine – which just further reinforced Dean's claim that Sam was a _girl_.

"But seriously," Dean continued, keeping Sam's attention. "What's so important 'bout these wands? I thought witches only needed a spell book, some disgusting items, body fluid and lots of chanting mumbo jumbo."

The sigh that came out of Sam was long suffering, the sigh that preluded a long lecture that could easily be summed up in one sentence but wouldn't be because Sam's just _like that_.

"Dean." He began, taking in a deep breath to signal the start of the next five minutes of Dean's life. "The witches and wizards here are _good _witches and wizards, their power doesn't come from demons like _our _kind of witches, so it makes sense a bit that they do things a bit different. They use the magic _inside _them, they're all _born _with it, so it makes sense they need to use a wand to control that flow of magic and pinpoint it to a certain target." Sam paused for a minute, taking in another deep breath to start up all again, but Dean was _waiting _for this moment and brutally cut in, continuing on with his musing as if he hadn't heard a single word (which he truthfully hadn't).

"So they have wands, _yippee_, great, well done. But why do _we _need one? We ain't magical, we sure as hell don't have no magic in us." A pause, Dean looked Sam over from top to bottom. "Well, not _me_ anyway, not sure about you, Psychic Wonder."

Little brother huffed, snatching both wands out of Dean's hand. The pair weren't particularly walking alone, especially not considering they had no _clue _about where to go in Hogsmeade and didn't want to get singled out as muggles and persecuted (or as Dean kept saying, beheaded). Oh no, right from the start, Dean had hired the professional services of coincidentally-coming-along Weasley twins to lead them to all the good spots (like the bar, Dean kept saying, the bar). Granger joined them after Sam started getting a bit too hysterical about his _clothes _(further cementing the notion that God hated Dean for making _Sam _the taller one), and Dean had pretty much guessed that where Granger goes, the youngest _male _Weasley and Potter go. Or vice versa. Or tre-vice-versa. Whatever. Even if there was no Potter in sight.

However, even with the presence of non-hunters around, Dean and Sam were pretty much used to speaking about their business without censoring much – all they had to make sure was not to mention _death_, ganking things, or anything else that ran synonymously with violence. Plus, while the Winchester's wouldn't admit it, they'd started to let their guard down a little bit – just a little – due to being around people that generally _knew _about the things that went bump in the night.

Hell, they practically lived _alongside _them – cue thoughts of vampires and _veela's_, whatever the hell that was supposed to be.

"I've been thinking about that, actually." Sam conceded, posing a thoughtful look as he eyed the two wands in his hand critically. "I think it's pretty obvious about me, though. Even though we ga- uh, _dealt _with, you know, Azazel, the _impurity _didn't quite leave, just stay dormant, so that's bound to have some effects on me that could be attributed as 'magic'. Plus, you know, the devil?"

Dean nodded, having come to the same conclusion – and inwardly snickering at the cover-up for gank, as if _dealt with _was any better.

"But I'm not sure about you." Sam continued, Bitch Facing his brother with a look that screamed '_Why Are You So Childish, Dean? __Why?' _"If we count up all the supernatural close calls _you've _had over the years... Well, there's Hell for one, and the Hellhounds before that too, then there's being pulled out of it by Cas – didn't he say something about rebuilding you whole? - and the fact about Michael. I'd be kinda surprised if you _didn't _have little traces of not-quite-muggle inside you after all that."

"Fine, fine, whatever." Dean waved off, not wanting the conversation to steer to _any _of those 'close calls'. "And the Boggart lesson shows we can use those wooden things. Great. But why did Remus worry when I took your wand?"

Sam shrugged. "Beats me."

"It's because a wand is _unique _to a person," Granger's voice piped up, walking besides Sam while the twins circled them all. "It's made of a certain type of wood – different to everybody – and a certain core – also different to everybody. The wand chooses the wizard, not the other way around - you _did _get your wands from Ollivander's, right?"

Dean just blinked blankly at her while Sam nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, we did! So _that _explains why the old man knew exactly what to give us. He kept making us try different wands, taking them away as soon as we touch them, and then seemed please with _these _ones." He said, holding up the two wands to the Hermione's inspection.

"Did he tell you what wood and core they were?" She asked innocently, studying the two wands.

"Uuh," Sam floundered, glancing between the wands. "Um, ivory and dragon heart string for me and uuh... Ebony and phoenix feather for Dean...?"

His brother grinned, a mischievous glint sparkling in his eyes. "_Ebony and ivory~..." _he sang, badly off key. "_Live together in perfect... Harmony~" _

Hermione laughed, only to roll her eyes at the blank looks from the Weasley brothers. "It's a _song_," she explained tiredly, ultimately turning her attention back to Sam. "But ivory isn't a wood, so how does that work?"

"Oh no," Sam was quick to reply. "It's technically Red Ivory, not the ivory from elephants. Or, to be even more technical, _Berchemia zeyheri_, a very rare wood found in Africa – mostly in Zimbabwe, Mozambique and South Africa. Extremely hard too find."

She blinked, studying the wand with the reddish hue, then turned to the smooth, black one with the same studious expression. Her eyes went to the Winchester brothers, and she nodded to herself almost as if confirming something.

"You know," she began flippantly, the nature of her tone similar to one commenting on the weather out of boredom. "The wood and wand core say a lot about the holder."

"Oh...?" Sam replied uncomfortably, thrusting both wands back to Dean who took them and continued studying them.

"Yes, in fact, the wand cores in particular are interesting. What did Ollivander say when he gave you the wands?"

It was Dean that spoke up, huffing as he tried bending Sam's wand only to be met by resistance. "The crazy old fool kept muttering about how _curious_ it was, whatever _it _is, and ranting on about both of our wands."

"He uuh..." Sam spoke up, continuing where Dean left off. "He, uuh, kept saying many bad things were in our future. That ebony shouldn't be used with phoenix feathers, and ivory was a rare and dangerous wood – more so with the dragon heart string. After that, he practically kicked us out..."

"... Told us to go to some other wand maker if we broke ours..."

"... And that we were banned from his shop. Eternally... Somehow." Sam finished lamely, scratching at the back of his neck.

The twins snorted in tandem while Ron and Hermione looked at each other in surprised unease.

"Hermione, doesn't Harry have a phoenix feather for _his _core?" Ron asked carefully, fidgeting as they walked.

"Yeah... Phoenix feather is one of the rarest core types for a wand, as well as the pickiest about who it chooses. It makes them really hard to use and control – it's why Harry had so much problem with his in his first year, remember?" The muggle-born witch answered, watching Ron nod in remembrance.

Dean snorted, waving his smooth, black wand in the air with a _swish_. "Sounds like a woman. Somehow, I'm not surprised – woman always do love me. More then Sammy here, anyway." As if in reply, bursts of red sparks shot from the tip, fading silently in the air like fireworks.

The Bitch Face that came on from Sam was almost legendary in it's power, and he spoke bitterly. "When are you going to _let go _about the Impala? I don't know if you realised, but it's not _my _fault that _demon _crashed into us with a _semi_."

"It's not me you need to ask forgiveness from, Sammy." Dean lectured, wagging his prone-to-act-by-itself wand right underneath Sam's nose. "And it wasn't only us that got crashed into that night. My poor baby, she's waiting so patiently for you to apologise."

Before Sam could reply with a most likely scathing retort of the car not being sentient, the twins squeezed in between the brothers, each one facing a brother, effectively interrupting the banter.

"_Demons_, you say?" Fred grinned slyly, nodding at Hermione in secrecy.

"That reminds me, didn't we say we wanted to learn _much _about them, Fred?" George replied, smiling innocently up at Sam's face.

The pair continued to cajole information out of the Winchester's as Hermione ducked away, dragging a protesting Ron away from sight.

The Gryffindor members of Operation Winchester (simply named by the twins) met up much later, now with the added bonus of a little invisible Harry, converging together behind a building. They were about to start a sudden mission meeting when Hermione spotted their Slytherin counterparts and hailed them over (much to Ron's arguments), and three Slytherins joined to fully complete the members of Operation Winchester.

"Right, Fred, George, what did you learn about _demons_?" Hermione began, face scrunching up at the last word.

"Well, I'll _say_." Fred intoned solemnly.

"My oh _my_," George followed primly.

"Let's just say me and George will be... _Ah_, decorating, the burrow once we get back." The first twin answered honestly.

"_What_?" The youngest Weasley exclaimed. "You mean you really believe this nonsense about _demons_?"

"Pretty much, yeah. See, we did a bit of our own research on demons beforehand, so we could compare what they told us with what we've read – and most of the things they said happen to come from the more... _Obscure_ books, the right down frightening ones in the forbidden part of the library." George looked to Hermione after saying so, and the witch bit her lip before carefully speaking.

"I've seen those..." She said slowly. "I've been going there at night time for the research. Borrowed some _things _from Harry, but he doesn't know." A meaningful look passed between the Gryffindors, and Hermione wisely didn't yelp when something poked her in the side. Slytherins _were _present, after all.

"Did you find out anything on that name you say they mentioned in your Boggart class?" George asked, curious.

"You mean Alastair? The name Harry heard them call that man the Boggart turned into on professor Dean's turn?" Hermione questioned back. "Or the names they mentioned in the library in the first place?"

"All of them," Fred quipped, grinning. "But Alastair first – we're mighty curious about that one."

Sighing, Hermione twirled a strand of hair in her fingers. "Alastair, or Alastor, from what I've gathered from numerous sources, is Hell's Executioner. He's the one in charge of torturing and passing out the punishments there. In Greek, he used to be human, but then was killed and decided to become Hades executioner, in Christian demonology, the name is used for any violent entity seeking revenge, vengeance, _violence_ – but in one book, _Liber Daemonibus_ – _The Book of Demons_ – it literally has him as a demon. A white eyed demon, to be exact."

"Just like the guy in DADA." Ron breathed in discovery. "His eyes went white, didn't they?"

"They did..." Hermione confirmed uncomfortably. "Many of the other names they mentioned where in the book too. Including that Azazel they said today."

"Is he a white eyed demon, too?" Fred asked curiously, hedging closer to Hermione along with everyone else.

"No, actually it says he's a _yellow _eyed demon. But only in one place. Everywhere else has him as either a fallen angel, or a demon through and through – most of them saying he taught mankind about war, lies, and witchcraft. How did you escape the professor's anyway?" Hermione answered back, cocking her head to the side in question.

"We left them near the pub where professor Dean was getting quite fond of this strange big black dog."

"Huh." Hermione said. "Huh."

. . .

Near the pub, the Winchester's _were _getting fond of a starving looking black dog – or at least, Dean was – while Sam was, as always, trying to be serious.

"We still need to talk about Remus, Dean." The little brother implored, practically begging for sanity to return to his brother.

"What's their to talk about?" Dean shot back on his knees, feeding the suspiciously clued in dog some food and cooing at it lovingly. "You saw the guy's Boggart. Saw his last name. Guy's a werewolf, we suit up with lotsa silver, watch him for a while just to make sure, and if so then gank the sucker – hey, hey, calm down, calm down, we're not going to hurt you." He finished, carefully trying to console a suddenly agitated dog.

Sam didn't quite like the simplicity of the plan, but found his attention straying to the sheer size of the dog. "Dean, that dog looks more like a... _Wolf_. Size-wise anyway..." He said uncomfortably, standing behind his big brother and away from the dog. "If I met it at night time, I'd mistake it for a Black Dog, actually."

"No way, man." was the reply. "This guy wouldn't hurt a fly, now would he? No he won't, such a good dog. Big and mighty and fierce, all you want's a little lovin', huh, big guy? Life's been tough huh? Don't you worry, things are going to look up for you real soon. Promise."

Shaking his head in exasperation, Sam shifted his weight to a different foot. "Uuh, Dean... You didn't just make a promise you can't keep with a _dog_, did you?"

"Stop being so negative, Sammy. That's how life is, it throws you the bad shit, then a small good break, then some more bad shit. Sometimes, the bad shit keep eclipsing all the good stuff – like the little things in life – you just need to have a little faith in the future and it'll turn out alright."

"Uuh yeah, okay dude." Just agree. Just agree and move on. _Wow, didn't know Dean still had positive thoughts. _"So I'll try and dig up information on Remus' past, see if any strange deaths around him happen on a new moon. There's that whole escaped convict guy too, Sirius Black, so I'll ask around about that just so we know – in case anything happens, anyway – we got enough silver?"

Dean snorted from his position of patting the dog one last time, getting up and cursing at the twinge in his knees – man, he really _wasn't _getting any younger, dammit. "We're set for at least an army of werewolves and shapeshifters, Sammy. We don't need to go 'round and search for anything to melt into bullets. And all we gotta do with that convict guy is make sure he doesn't pop up 'round Harry, right? And if he does, pop him one in the head. Simple."

"It really says something about you when you talk so easily of killing someone." Sam noted, wry amusement laced with his tone making it non-offending. The dog was steadily moving away from them.

"Yeah well," Dean answered back, grinning at his little brother. "I've been dying to gank some witches for _months_."

And the dog was gone.

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><p><strong>Oh my, they <em>do <em>say dog's are capable of understanding meanings through voices or something right? My, what a clever little dog, such a clever little dog. -whistles innocently-**

**Leave a review! Come on, you know you want too! How about we hit 150, huh? -grins-**


	8. Eight

**PROFESSOR'S WINCHESTER**

**Summary: **When Hogwarts received two new professors from the fated land of America, everybody was curious. But no one was more curious then one Harry Potter. A series of stories about Dean and Sam Winchester as professors at Hogwarts.

**AN: **Sorry for the long wait! Here's chapter 8, chopped down halfway since it just wouldn't stop. Story might end on chapter 11/12 or even 13, I'm honestly not sure anymore - the plot is all set in stone, it's just the writing that seems to _grow_. To follow the process of the story and keep track, you can follow my friend's twitter **operationhades**, she tends to stalk me and _nag_. Also, thank you all for the amazing reviews! You have absolutely no idea how much I absolutely adore you all! I'm trying to keep this AN small, but _gah_! -flails- This is my thank you! /loves all over you all

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><p><strong>- EIGHT -<strong>

"Dean, there's nothing here."

A grunt. His brother turned a page.

"_Dean_, there's nothing _here_."

This time nothing, not even a small twitch to show Dean had heard. Little brother annoyance turned on _max power_, Sam spoke up again, completely ignoring the whining note that had entered his voice. "_Deeeaaan,_ there's nothing _heeere_."

"Dammit, Sam!" Dean exploded on cue. "I know! Just keep looking. Damn pointy hats should have _something _to go off on."

"But we've searched for _months_, Dean. I really think we should just... Call it quits."

Dean twitched, but Sam wasn't watching that – instead, he focus was on the white knuckled grip his older brother was holding on some random book, just one of the thousands they'd dragged up from the library both publicly and secretly. He sighed, huffing slightly at the lack of reply coming from Dean, and closed the thick book in his own lap with finality. He should've known what this was about, Dean never researched _anything _if he had Sam to fall back on, and sure, this was the _apocalypse _and all, but some habits were really hard to break – or, in this case, break _into_.

So of course, there was another reason at play.

Like a little brother to save.

"Dean," Sam sighed fondly, sympathetic and all. "Come on, man, we'll just find another way. Besides, Lucifer can't do anything without my consent."

The reply he got for his efforts was a death glare, narrowed eyes daring him to continue speaking. Sam rolled his eyes, not at all perturbed by the expression admittedly rarely seen on his brother's face. Every now and then, he forgot Dean could be a damn scary man when he wanted to be, every bit the hunter he called himself to be, just as everybody else did too. Hell, how many times had a hunter tried offing Sam after the whole demon blood fiasco only to get a face full of Dean and whatever was close enough to him? If it was just a shotgun, they'd be freaking lucky. Not so much if a knife.

"_But_," The younger Winchester continued anyway, "We _should _try and decide what we're going to do about the possible hunt we might have going on here." Hint, hint.

Perking up, Dean finally closed the large tome, a dusty book with a long title that made sense to neither of them. Still, Dean had dutifully been translating the Scandinavian text, coming up with enough sentences that had him seriously thinking the book had been written by Gabriel himself. Sam picked up the paper Dean had been writing through, skimming through the translated notes and snorting at a few of them.

Leaning forward on their desk (and by now, what with having been at Hogwarts for while, the table literally had a scrawled _Winchester_ on it courtesy of Dean), the older brother eyed his little brother, probably wondering whether Sam really was going to move past a potential chick flick moment.

"It was December when we first got a whiff of him, Sam." Dean pointed out, somewhat logically. "And only _now _you're finally agreeing there might be a hunt here?"

"He's not hurting anyone, Dean." Came the much exhausted answer. "I think he knows he's a werewolf, and somehow has a way of controlling himself. The last time he's attacked anyone was when _he _was in Hogwarts. As a _student_."

Dean shook his head, relaxing back fully into his chair. "Doesn't matter Sammy, he might not hurt anyone now, but he will in the future. Unlike other monsters, werewolves can't control themselves, have no collection of what they've done or _will _do and kill indiscriminately. We can't just let him _pass_."

"And we just can't go around killing_ people_, Dean. What if he actually _does _have a way of controlling himself? These guys aren't exactly civilians."

"If they did," Dean patiently began. "Then it'd be widespread. We'd know about it. And we wouldn't be going around carrying as much silver as we do."

"Okay, okay." The younger Winchester conceded. "But before we find out whether he does or not, no ganking. Deal?"

"Dude, use another word."

"_Fine_, agreed?"

"Agreed."

The brothers fell into silence afterwards, returning back to their books by an unspoken agreement. A few seconds passed before Sam looked up from his book back at Dean and spoke up again. "So I was reading up on our wands, after, you know, what Hermione said."

Dean glanced up, frowning for a moment as he puzzled to put a face to the name, but soon remembered the really clever girl with the posh British accent. "After she '_assured' _you you looked fabulous? Or after you traded hair tips?"

Sam kicked him under the table, but generally carried on, taking out his deep red wand from some pocket inside his robe. Seriously, why the younger Winchester seemed set on wearing the damn thing was beyond Dean, but what the hell, Sam was weird like that anyway. Bitch.

"Jerk." What, he can read minds now? "So anyway, I found a lot of information on our wands and stuff, some of which Hermione already told us back at Christmas. But I got curious since she only spoke of the wand cores, and looked up the wood. Turns out Red Ivory isn't even _considered _as a possible candidate for wand making, so I didn't find much on _that_, but Ebony had a whole topic on it, all on it's own."

Yeah, because that sounded _so _good, Dean thought sourly as he narrowed his eyes at his brother.

"Turns out," Sam carried on, geekily distracted by the retelling of knowledge to notice Dean's quickly worsening mood. "Ebony is 'highly suited to all manners of combative magic, especially transfiguration'. Meaning you can change something from one thing to another – or even change yourself! Remember Professor McGonagall and the way she changes into a cat? Yeah, apparently that's transfiguration or something, I don't know." He paused, blinking slightly as a new thought came to him. "Hey, Dean. What animal would _you _like to turn into, if you could?"

"The hell does _that_ matter, Sam?" Dean tried deflecting, even though he honestly believed what he was asking _anyway_. "I'm not using the stick. At all. You know what hunters think about us already, Sam? They think we're monsters, about to bring the world to it's knees. Last thing we need is to go around waving sticks and muttering hocus pocus just to prove them right. We'd get ganked so hard Lucy _and _Mike will have trouble finding us to resurrect us or something."

"Come on, Dean, just answer the question." Sam asked again, purposely ignoring his brother's words and the thought that had come unbidden up in response. _They don't think _you're _a monster, Dean. Just me. _"Please?"

Sighing, Dean dropped his head onto the table, groan muffled by his new position. "Ugh, I don't know. Something that's predatory – like a tiger, or something. Or hell, maybe even a shark. Sharks are cool."

Amused, Sam stared down at Dean's hair. "Sharks? I really didn't take you for the aquatic type, dude."

"Yeah well, you didn't know I wanted to be a fireman too."

Ouch. Low blow. Sam let it slide, knowing it was only because of his needling Dean was getting cranky – and when Dean got cranky, he said things he didn't mean, and when Sam said _didn't mean_, he means _didn't mean_. Like that time a delirious, pained and cranky Dean couldn't stop humming the Barbie song after it had played on TV for a straight hour.

But they weren't supposed to talk about that.

"Tell you what, Sasquatch." Dean spoke up again, voice just a pitch lower then normal to signal his apology. "We'll set a deadline of finding out whether Lupin-dude knows he's a werewolf or not and if he has a method of dealing with it or not, by June. If not, we'll confront him and just be blunt 'bout it."

Sam nodded distractedly, hearing the silent _'with guns and stuff_' Dean so eloquently added one with a raised eyebrow. He wanted to carry on about the things he'd learned of their wands, but knew with a certainty now it wouldn't go over well – especially with the knowledge he'd gained up from it. But it really did make him look at Dean in a slightly different way, what with ebony being happiest in the hands of those courageous enough to be themselves. And independent. And completely okay with being outcasts.

In all essence of the matter, Dean was the exact opposite of him. Sam _hated _the notion of being an outcast, of being a 'freak', Dean had accepted it, embraced it, wore it like something to be damn proud of and did it with flair. Sam had strived his whole life to be normal, to fit in with the crowd of ignorant people, while Dean had cut his losses short at the age of four and scoffed at the mere idea of ever going back. The-

"-I think Cas would be a Golden Eagle."

Sam perked up, cocking an eyebrow at his brother's unwillingly thoughtful face.

"Yeah?" He played along, entertained by the notion of what animals their friends would be. "And Bobby a Rottweiler, right?"

Grinning, Dean nodded his head, tapping a pen against the table. "Ellen'd be a Husky, no doubt."

Snickering, Sam agreed wholeheartedly. "She'd take that as a compliment – once she got passed the comparison to a dog."

And then, an abrupt silence fell upon them, neither wishing to quite yet mention Jo simply for the fact she'd be the _last _person they collectively knew. And then it'd be just awkward – even more so awkward then it already was due to both knowing what would happen after someone mentioned Jo. Or something.

"So uh, did you hear about Professor Hagrid's class? And what happened?"

A quick thoughtful look passed across Dean's face, probably trying to put a face to the name, before he gave a quick nod of recognition as well as an answer. "All I heard was something 'bout a crazy ass animal getting prissy on the Ice Queen."

Sam laughed at that and wondered, not for the first time, exactly what the relationship between Dean and Draco Malfoy _was_. From what he'd gathered, it wasn't quite hate (or at least, it wasn't from Dean's side), but they certainly weren't... Acquaintances either. Dean had taken an almost antagonistic role when it came to the pureblood, completely doing everything in his power to get the kid riled up, throw him down, question everything there was to question about him, his decisions, his _life_ – but in a way that looked like he was only trying to prepare the kid, prepare him for the truth of the universe that realistically cared very little for blood royalty. That, along with the fact it looked like Dean _genuinely_ just enjoyed riling the poor kid up _too_.

And on the other side, Draco truly and undeniably _loathed _Dean's gut. Though that meant it was just another name to add on to the list of people that wanted nothing more then to wipe the grin of Dean's face. Generally speaking, _anyone _that ran into Dean wanted to strangle the guy – Dean just had that affect on people, and he knew it.

"Professor Hagrid was teaching the class with a live creature, a Hippogriff, and it got a bit testy with Draco." Sam explained fully. "Drew a bit of blood, from what I hear. So they're holding a hearing for Buckbeak today, or well, the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures is holding the hearing to decide what to do with him."

"_Him_?" Dean scoffed, grinning slyly at his little brother. "Please tell me the thing's not called _Buckbeak_, Sammy. And it's freakin' hypocritical of you to get all bitchy about me calling the Impala a _she_, or _baby_, when you go around calling that thing a he."

"No it's _not_," Sam shot back immediately. "Buckbeak's _alive_, it's an actual living _creature_, an _organism_, Dean – the Impala is _not_. Besides, animals have genders, cars do _not_. And Buckbeak is like a pet to Hagrid, he's really distraught about all this and the possibility he might be executed."

"The Impala's _more _then a pet to _me_." Dean groused, feigning hurt. "And it's a damn animal, he'll get over it. Already has a giant ass huge dog, anyway."

Wincing, Sam nodded slowly. Dean didn't like Hagrid, at all, and the gentle half giant didn't quite understand _why_. Mostly, it was the wild assortment of creatures Hagrid always had on him, or the far too jovial personality he had, all things Dean could complain and whine about but generally not let it effect his day. But when Dean had an unfortunate run in with _Fluffy_, the three headed giant as _hell_ black dog with rather sharp and pointy teeth – the Colt had been used, the demon killing knife had been brandished, and one traumatised dog, a panic ridden owner and a little brother trying to calm down a far too strung up big brother later – Dean and Hagrid in the same room left for a very thick tension in the air.

Moving past the topic, Sam dove into plans for the next set of lessons, forcing Dean to join him, wondering whether this topic would be better then that, how to prepare the older students for their all important exams, bitching at his brother's self deprecating humour of his own education, if only because he now understood things about his brother he'd never deemed to think about before, the things Dean had so willingly sacrificed to the point they weren't even important enough to note.

There, in the library, they planned for all of April, the month they were currently in, all the way to June.

Then, when June came rolling 'round, all hell broke loose.

. . .

"_Scabbars missing!_"

Harry sympathetically patted Ron's back, but the red head was having none of it, almost biting at the hand before spinning in a full circle while pulling at his red hair with a scary amount of fervour.

"Scabbars _missing_!"

"Where would the damn rat go anyway?" Hermione's voice huffed out from somewhere behind them.

But at least she was still with them, following along as Ron tore through Hogwarts and burst through the large doors leading out to the grounds. Harry would've thought she'd abandon them after not finding the Weasley's pet rat in their common room, especially with the constant accusations of murder coming from Ron concerning her cat. A cat that was mysteriously also missing.

But Ron really _was _having none of it, and he swerved around and _snarled _at them both, focusing mostly on Hermione, eyes narrowed and cheeks flushed. "If I knew _that_, _would I be here_?" He spun around once more afterwards, putting his back to them, and practically frog marched away from the large gates of Hogwarts, further into the grounds, and away from the warmth and safety of the large school.

Harry shared a worried glance with Hermione, who was looking slightly guilty and a little bit hurt, and the two wordlessly followed after the red head, keeping a pace or two behind the redhead to give him some space.

Hermione tilted a bit till she was walking right besides Harry, a step or three right behind Ron, and elbowed him insistently to get the Boy who Lived's attention.

"Harry," she began, speaking quickly in a way that meant her words were Very Important. "Harry," she repeated again, probably just to make sure he was listening. "It's past curfew, Harry, it's _dark_." Yes, Hermione, Harry could see that, he was well aware of the fact the sky was dark and littered with stars and how everything would be very hard to see if it weren't for the full moon casting lights intermittently in between dark clouds that continued to cover it every few seconds or so. "Harry," Hermione carried on. "It's _dangerous._ We can't search for Scabbars at _night time_, it's undeniably suicidal. Have you forgotten about the _dementors_? Or Sirius Black? Or for Merlin's sake, _Voldemort_?"

Feeling uncomfortable with the fact everything she said was _true_, Harry gave an unsynchronized shrug. "Look at him, Hermione." He whispered back, far more calmly then her fierce arguments. "You know he's been worried about Scabbars all week, and the rat really had been acting weird. I reckon this is just the last straw or something, there's no way he'll just say OK and head back to Hogwarts, so it's either we go with him and make sure nothing happens, or leave him here to it. One way or another, Ron's going to keep searching for Scabbars."

Before Hermione could reply, a cheer interrupted her, and both students turned their attentions back to Ron, who was facing them with a large grin that split his face in half, hands at his chest, holding a small, struggling, lump.

"I found him!" Ron needlessly said. "I found him! Scabbars _alive_!"

The fat rat was struggling with abandon, scratching and biting at Ron who winced and cursed under his breath but held on tight. The trio were way into the grounds by now, with Hogwarts looming at a distant behind them, windows lit with golden lights, and the moon reflecting of the still lake close by. The whomping willow was a solitary figure to their right, deceptively as still as a statue, mocking them with the knowledge that it was anything but a normal looking tree and could pack one hell of a branch-punch. A sudden large cloud rolled over the moon, blocking out it's light, casting the atmosphere in shades of black.

"And _what_, I dare say, are _you three _doing outside the grounds passed curfew?"

Oh. _Oh_. That _sneer. _Ron's expression went from deliriously delighted to pale and frightened in the span of a second, leaving Harry and Hermione staring wide eyed at him as the voice came from behind them. Slowly, the two turned to face the newcomer, and Harry, for once in his entire life, was praying fervently that he was wrong in his assumption, that it was just Malfoy, or hell, even Zabini, behind them. But alas, it was not to be, for there, as they turned around fully to see, looming above them with the darkest of cloaks that blended perfectly in with the night, was the Slytherin Head. Severus Snape, glaring down his crooked, aristocratic nose at them.

"I would have thought at the very least _you'd _know to stay indoors, Potter. What with the escaped convict Sirius Black on the loose and all." Snape said, spitting out the words as if they tasted disgusting. "How _saddening_, that your stupidity seems to have infected Granger too."

Harry was about to retort bitingly, yet the only sound that came out was a yelp as Hermione's foot landed on his own, digging into it with a vengeance. Smiling brightly, the only female in the group bustled forward till she stood in front of the professor, surreptitiously placing herself in between Harry, Ron and Snape.

"We were just going to head back, Professor Snape." Hermione said, voice oozing with feminine charm. "We were only searching for Scabbars, sir. We couldn't just let him stay outside with the rat's natural predators around."

Snape's head whipped down to face her solely, his face hidden in varying shades as the cloud continued to hide the moon's shine. His sneer was almost an audible sound now, his irritation making him flick his robes dramatically. "And what makes you think I _care_ for the Weasley's stupid little rat?" The question came, voice tilting into high notes. "Now _come_, let us return. Once we're inside Hogwarts I'll have come up with a _suitable _punishment for you three."

Another robe flick, and Snape was facing away from them, directed towards Hogwarts-

-And right in the face of the largest dog he'd ever seen.

It's giant maw opened up wide and snapped at him, forcing Snape to stumble backwards, to push Harry and Hermione back with him to where Ron stood stock still, clutching at his suddenly pliant pet. Wand in hand and ready to use, Snape was just opening his mouth, with a curse at the tip of his tongue, when the dog (or was it a wolf?) completely bypassed him, snarling as it lunged towards the frightened Weasley. The sharpest teeth he'd ever seen sunk with a sickening sound into the flesh of the red head's leg, the momentum making Ron drop to the floor at the same time as he screamed in pain, voice taping off into sobs as he clutched reflexly at the trapped rat in his grip.

The spell Snape set loose on instinct flew a mile wide, red jet of light barely missing the Weasley as the dog, with it's teeth still clamped around Ron's leg, pulled at the boy like he weighed nothing, or in a way reminiscent of a predator taking away it's captured prey. The sheer size of it made it easy to drag the kicking and screaming teenager, who fought valiantly, if not a bit dumbly, Snape realised crudely, what with opting to keep a hold on his dumb rat rather then use his damn wand. The potions master lurched forward to follow after, cloak more of a hindrance as it twisted around his limbs and refused to work with him – the second that it took to freaking _dislodge _the damn thing from around his ankles saved him from getting _branch-slapped _by a suddenly far too close then expected whomping willow. A whomping willow that seemed all too happy to try and cut off his head then cause any obstruction to the wolf-dog galloping away with his student.

Cursing furiously, Snape ducked under another branch, jumping as one tried to sweep his feet from underneath him. For some Merlin forsaken reason, the accursed tree was focused solely on him – probably in revenge for that time in second year he'd tried to burn the damn thing – while paying very little attention to the weaving figures of one Potter and Granger who were (of course) right on the heel of the creature that had kidnapped their friend. Oh no, of course _they're _not going to think anything about their _own _safety, or even stop to wonder the benefits of going back to the castle and getting actual _help_ – damn Gryffindors, the lot of them.

_'In fact, a pox to them all,'_ Snape thought, catching from the corner of his eye as the two able students hurl into a small hole in the willow's trunk. Irritated, he dodged another branch, rearing back his wand arm to shoot a paralysing spell at the damn tree, when said tree did just that – paralyse. It suddenly stopped moving, leaves rustling as inertia took place at the sudden termination of movement. Suspiciously wary – and rightfully so – Snape eyed the tree, wondering whether it was truly finding some vindictive satisfaction in confusing him for a slighted wrong he (admittedly) did not regret. But it stayed still, one arm twitched, but continued to remain stationary.

Far from being a mumbling imbecile, Snape adjusted his grip on his wand, held it aloofly in front of him (it was the raging style of this decade, you know), and made his way to the point of entry he'd seen all Gryffindor's disappear into. If he'd quickened his pace a tad bit more then usual, no one would be the wiser, and even if they were, one should know that the whomping willow is not one to be forced into stillness for long.

_'Indeed,' _Snape thought, eyeing the small knot in the trunk right above the burrow. Maybe he'd try to burn it again when he came back.

. . .

The last thing they expected was to end up in the Shrieking Shack, but neither paid any attention as they hurried after the running black dog and the sound of Ron's distress. Harry was in the lead, with Hermione just a step behind him. Both had their wands out and were ready in the case of _anything _happening, but made sure not to shoot any hexes after the dog in the fear of hitting Ron instead.

They burst into a a shambled room, just in time to see the dog spit out Ron's leg and move on to the end of the room. Sliding to a stop besides their injured friend, both Harry and Hermione kept their wand trained on the growling dog. It was then, and only then, that thanks to keeping their attention on the dog, they saw it all. The black dog, right before their eyes, transformed into the form of a scraggly, dirty, skinny man hollowed out by age and stress.

And that man looked a lot like the wanted poster of Sirius Black.

Hermione's gasp was overshadowed by Harry's furious shout, the idea, the _notion_, of his parents traitor standing right in front of him, the reason why they were dead, why he'd suffered being in the care of the Dursley's, standing _right in front of him_, had him blind with rage, pointing his wand directly between the man's eyes. He would have shot a curse immediately, but Harry needed to know why, he needed to know _why _a man that had been his parents best friend for _years _would do such a thing, what could have been so great Voldemort could have given him to betray them.

Behind them, Snape came bursting through just before Harry could form a question, his own wand expertly trained on the escaped criminal. "You!"

The man known as Sirius Black only graced Snape with a sneer, keeping his wild looking eyes trained on the pale as a sheet Weasley. But on closer look, Harry could see the criminal hadn't even spared Ron a passing glance, instead, all his focus was on the still wildly struggling rat in Ron's grip, and that just made no sense to him.

"Here to finish the job, Black?" Harry heard Snape demand, the man coming to stand a step in front of the three Gryffindors. "Considering you've already killed the boy's parents, and that sniffling Pettigrew, why don't you also go after Lupin? Finish off the legendary group of misfits."

Then, and only then, did the wild eyes move away from Scabbars, fastening onto Snape with such fervent heat Harry took an involuntary step back. "Oh shut it," the man hissed, voice hoarse and breaking. "What do you know, Snivellus? What could you _possibly _now? If nothing else, you _should _know that I, _I, _would _never _have betrayed James and Lily_. Never_."

Snape made a noise of contempt, ignoring the wide eyed stare Harry and Hermione were giving him, surprised to see the familiarity between the two. But Harry wasn't going to just stand back and watch this – he couldn't – not after everything that had happened, not after everything that _would _happen because Voldemort was still out there, somewhere.

"Then why did you?" He yelled from behind Snape. "Why did you betray them? Why did you get them killed?"

Grief etched itself onto the dirty scraggly face, eyes roaming over Harry's face before a keening noise of pain broke out from chapped lips. "It wasn't me!" The man shouted back, screamed, hysterically. "It wasn't _me!_"

Harry pounced on the reply before Snape could. "Then who _was _it?"

A dirty finger pointed wildly at Ron's chest, where Harry once more noted Scabbars was frantically trying to dig it's nails and teeth into to get free, and he dimly realised he'd never seen the rat so panicked before. Maybe it could sense a dog was in the room or something, but that didn't explain why it had been so panicked even before this night.

"Him!" Sirius Black said, pointing at Scabbars. "The rat! Pettigrew!"

Ron's spluttering of _"What?" _and Snape's sharp bark of laughter permitted the air at the exclamation. "Pettigrew is _dead_, Black." Snape snapped back, so visibly losing what little patience he had. "_You _killed him, and you're saying it's the _rat_?"

"_Yes_, damn it! You _know _all of us have an Animagus form! I _know _you do! You suspected us of it ever since you almost got killed trying to find out about Remus!"

What? What was there to find out about Professor Lupin? Harry watched on as Snape almost _snarled _at the criminal's hysteric words. "Unfortunately for you, while a rat is a perfectly acceptable Animagus form for such a slimy coward, it's for that exact reason I think this is preposterous. Pettigrew was a _coward_, he wouldn't have gone anywhere _near _Voldemort, and how would he know of their location?"

Sirius Black punched the floor next to him with a curled fist. "Because he was their Secret Keeper, Severus! It was for that _exact _reason we chose him to be! No one would suspect him of such a thing – everyone would ultimately believe it was either me or Remus. Why do you think I confronted the traitor if _I _was the one to kill them?"

Snape's sneer was answer enough. "Because you are a crazed madman, always have been, always will, and do not think you'll be able to swindle me to your way of thought, Black. The only thing you'll be swindling me into is personally taking you back to Azkaban." The potions master raised his wand then, gripped it tighter, and began forming the words of a curse to knock Sirius out, before a flash of red hit him instead and forced his wand out of his hand, the wooden stick clattering to the other side of the room.

"Do you have proof, Sirius?" A new voice spoke up, startling the three Gryffindors and Snape. The voice belonged to Remus Lupin, who stood at the entrance to the Shrieking Shack, calm and serene, patient as always as he walked into the room with his wand out, striding in like he'd merely caught students out of bed past curfew. "Your accusations are just that, old friend. Peter Pettigrew is dead, unless you have proof."

"I do." Sirius replied, more controlled – Snape theorised with a sneer it was because of being in the presence of an _'old friend'_. "If that rat truly is Peter, then there is only one way to show it."

Remus nodded, walking further into the room until he could scoop down and pick up Snape's wand, taking a few more steps till he stood in front of a still seated Snape. The wizard stared down at Snape's furious look. "Now, Severus. I apologise for disarming you, but please withhold any spell work until we can truly ascertain whether the truth of years long past are right or not. Please?"

He hated them, the _Marauders –_ yes, he knew their damn nickname – and he absolutely abhorred Sirius in particular. But while he hated James Potter just as bad, and looked upon Pettigrew like the Dark Lord looked upon Muggles, Remus had always been something of a neutral area. Sure, the man never stopped the abuse he'd been heaped on by Potter and Black, but he never joined in it too, nor did he treat Snape with anything less then civility. Fighting against everything inside him that told him to scream _'no!' _and shoot Lily's murderer, Snape finally allowed himself a small nod of acquiescence.

Remus gave him his wand, then held his own up and shot a spell at the rat in Ron's clutch. Hermione's jaw dropped open as the rat writhed in it's place until Ron finally yelped and dropped it, only for the creature to grow larger in size, grotesquely changing shape, limbs growing longer and thicker, head morphing into the shape of a human, just like the dog had turned into Sirius Black.

Ron looked even paler as he stared wide eyed up at the man that had secretly been feigning to be his rat. The man fell to Remus feet immediately, babbling to the taller man with calls of friendships and _"oh, it's been so long, Remus!"_. Sirius stared down with ill concealed anger, while Remus' face stayed professionally blank.

It turned out, Peter really had been the Potter's Secret Keeper, it turned out he really _had _betrayed them, cunningly faking his own death after screaming to witnesses that it had been Sirius to do so. The missing finger Ron had always noticed was instead the only remains found of a previously thought dead Peter, and Harry couldn't believe it, couldn't believe the idea of having _known _the rat since his first year in Hogwarts, since first meeting Ron and Hermione – the idea of having been in close contact with his parents killers so absolutely sickening he couldn't just believe it.

Outside, dark, rolling clouds parted away from the moon, allowing the silver light to filter through broken boards of the badly maintained Shack, through the hole in the wall that acted as a window, providing a bit more light to see the unfolding drama. But as soon as the clouds revealed the silver orb, Sirius looked sharply to Remus, to the blatant look of surprise on the professor's face, and the escaped criminal's shout was drowned out by cries of pain.

And for the third time that night, Harry and co. watched as another transformation took place, and rather then be it from animal to human, they watched transfixed as Remus moaned in pain, writhing and pulling at himself until he wasn't Remus anymore, and Snape was standing again, holding his wand, wide eyed but steady, surprising everybody, including Sirius, by grabbing said man by the arms and hauling him up and away from the creature.

Harry was completely lost as to the latest turn of events, it was a miracle Ron hadn't passed out yet, but Hermione explained it all by one word. _"Boggart!" _If what he was seeing and what she was telling him was right, then by Merlin, the silver orbed they'd thought to be a crystal ball was actually the moon, and professor Remus was a _werewolf_.

A swipe from the creature had Snape shoving Sirius towards the door, pushing Hermione and Harry to stand backwards to where Ron stood, clutching at obviously broken leg. The creature, standing on it's hind paws, reared back it's head as the moon's light continued to filter through, mocking them for forgetting about her, for forgetting about her full body and what it did to the men and women under her power.

"Get back!" Snape shouted, arm flung outwards to keep the three students behind him. The potions master cursed as the werewolf gave a low, vibrating, growl, falling onto all fours, taking a step towards them. He flicked his wand out, holding it expertly in his hand as he kept taking steps backwards, forcing the Gryffindor's further away from the creature.

Then the werewolf _lunged _at them, muzzle open wide, baring down on them, and all Snape saw was a curtain of black covering his vision before the Shrieking Shack's battered room once more greeted him, clearly absent of a werewolf.

Growls and snarls filled the air, distinctively coming from his left, making him blink and adjust his hold on his wand as he turned to face the origins of the noise. Circling each other, fangs bared, was the werewolf and a large, black, dog that looked very much like the one he'd just chased into the shack for. A quick glance to the children showed Hermione, jaw locked as she restlessly looked all around the room and the door that was separated by the two circling animals, probably looking for a way out, a frightened looking Weasley clutching a broken leg, and a pale Potter gripping his wand tight, visibly lost as to what to do.

Snape sneered at the boy, wondering why it wasn't obvious that the only thing _to _do was to get the hell out. By Merlin's beard, besides the eyes, the boy had nothing in common with Lily.

Suddenly, a yelp drew his attention, making him turn his focus back onto the two canines lunging at each other. The werewolf was obviously at an advantage, with much longer limbs and a height advantage over the glaringly malnourished Sirius. Another swipe of claws cut five straight lines into the dog's flesh, another pain filled yelp as the dog scurried back too late, hunching in on itself before bristling back into action and snapping it's giant maw at the werewolf.

But then, a gunshot rang out, solitary, lone, crackling through the air with such force both creatures stopped in their tracks. Snape and the children were frozen in their spots, and a sudden blanket of silence shocked them by descending upon them all. Footsteps was next, the crackling of something that sounded on fire, the werewolf whining before shuffling backwards, away from the wooden stick with one end on fire, held by the two muggles Dumbledore had employed for the year. Both were holding something else in another hand, something metal that Snape honestly had no clue as to it's function, but the Granger's gasp followed by Harry's eyes darting down to it told the Potions professor enough that it was a muggle contraption.

The shorter of the two muggles – Snape never had bothered to learn their names besides Winchester – did something strange with the metal contraption, something that had the Granger girl and Potter screaming _"no!"_ - long enough for Remus, in his purely instinctual haze, to leap out of the hole in the wall that acted as a shabby window, and out into the grounds once more. Sirius jumped after the werewolf without missing a beat, and while Snape could care less if Black got himself maimed, he couldn't just sit back and relax at the potential thought of his death when Harry panicked and followed right after.

The Winchester's cursed, putting into few words everything Snape felt, but the Potions master didn't have the time to demand to know how they'd found them, or even what they thought they were doing rushing into such an obviously dangerous situation with something as barbaric as a flaming piece of wood (and that metal thing). Instead, he snapped at them to take the two remaining Gryffindors back to the relative safety of Hogwarts, and with a swish of his cloak climbed through the jagged hole and jumped out of it back onto the slightly moist earth, following the sound of snarls and howls.

A spell from his own wand blew up colourfully and loudly in the sky like a flair, and Snape was set to deal with this, safe in the knowledge backup would see the emergency spell and arrive. There damn well better be some dementors among them as well.

. . .

They'd left her. They'd left her and Ron, _Ron_, with his broken and bleeding leg, and just ran out there without even looking back. And Professor Snape wanted them to go _back_? How could he think she could just go back and sit there and do _nothing_? How could she think she and _Ron _could do that? Especially after everything they'd learnt, everything they'd seen, and it only hit her then with that thought that there was no sign of the man that had been pretending to be Scabbars – Peter Pettigrew – he was _gone _and he'd been the one to betray Harry's parents to Voldemort and he'd been with them _all this time_-

"-Hey, hey, Hermione. Breath in, come on, just take a deep breathe, calm down."

She did just that, gulped down air and kept it in her lungs before slowly letting it loose. Her thoughts were much more clear now, more focused, and she looked up to see Professor Sam's worried face looking at her, the gun tucked in his waistband like how Wizards kept their wands on their person, comfortable, easy to reach, quick to draw. Professor Dean was nowhere in site, gone, just like Professor Snape was, just like Harry, just like Sirius Black who turned out not to be a criminal but completely innocent, just like Professor Lupin.

"Hi, Hermione." Professor Sam greeted her, smiling a bit, still looking worried. "How're you feeling?"

She watched dimly as he fell to his knees next to Ron, giving a few moments for her friend to notice him before starting to look over the broken leg. "We can't just stay here," she heard herself say. "We have to go! Harry's in trouble! Professor Lupin-!"

"Don't worry," Professor Sam interrupted her, looking her in the eye before turning back to Ron. "Harry will be fine, he's got Professor Snape _and _Dean with him, they'll take care of him and deal with it."

_Deal with it_.

"No, you don't understand!" Hermione burst out, panic running quick through her veins. "That's Professor Lupin! The werewolf! It's _him_!"

Ron whimpered as Professor Sam touched something, making the tall man murmur an apology. "I know, Hermione." He said after making sure he wasn't adding any more pain to Ron's already broken leg. "You don't have to worry. But do you know why the dog was here? What was it doing?"

Surprised at the professor knowing of the werewolf's actual identity, Hermione answered "Sirius Black" before she could really stop to think of the consequences. Professor Sam cursed at it, looking surprised but more pissed then anything else, standing up to his full height which forced both her and Ron to crane their necks up at him.

"Okay, okay. Hermione, I need you to take Ron back to the school."

"_What?_" She shot back, the mere notion of the idea gripping her with disgust. "We can't just go back!"

"Harry needs our help!" Ron joined in from the floor. "And Scabbars-" A pained grimace. "That Peter guy, he's gone as well! We need to try and find him!"

Professor Sam huffed in anger – she could tell it wasn't directed at them, but she could also tell he wanted to go after his brother, and Professor Snape, and Harry, and Sirius Black who hadn't really killed Harry's parents and Professor Lupin who was out there and-

"There's a werewolf and an escaped criminal out there, Hermione, Ron." Professor Sam's voice said, piercing through her quickly spiralling thoughts. "Ron, you can barely move, your leg is _broken_, and Hermione, are you just going to leave Ron here? Alone? Unguarded? Harry has Professor Snape _and _Dean at his side, do you really think they'd let anything happen to him?"

N-No, of course she didn't. She knew Harry was much safer with the two professors then he'd be with just her and Ron, and Ron _did _have a broken leg, plus he'd probably lost a lot of blood, but, but-

"Don't worry, guys." The tall teacher softly continued. "We'll deal with this, all of it, _and _we'll find this Peter guy. I'm sure Professor Snape is planning on finding him anyway. So just. Please. Go back to the school. Hermione, take Ron to the infirmary. Please."

She looked over to Ron, watching as he looked up at her, and she didn't need to think on what he was thinking. They trusted Professor Sam, both of them did, and Hermione knew Ron could see the logic in it, just like she could. But she still felt bad, still felt _wrong_, leaving Harry behind, going to the inevitable safe haven of Hogwarts – but Ron looked so pale, the red hair and freckles she didn't usually notice standing stark against his face, and his leg was still oozing small pulses of blood from the bite wound, plus it was at the wrong angle. How the hell could she abandon Ron in this state to help Harry? Harry would understand – he'd get mad if she left Ron here to help him. So she looked back up to the younger Winchester (or was he Wesson? Dimly, she realised this was the man that had an criminal record longer then some of her essays) and nodded in submission.

Hermione didn't wait to see Professor Sam take off after his brother (_after Professor Snape, after Harry, after Sirius, after Professor Lupin_), instead turning to crouch down next to a slightly shivering Ron who solemnly stared back at her. Fervently, she found herself praying to anything that would hear for everything to be okay by the end of the day.

* * *

><p><strong>- TBC<strong>


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